Soft Reset
by OceanSpiral
Summary: Paul Masterson claims to know everything about the virtual world of Pokemon. The champion of online tournaments and the proud owner of hundreds of perfect pixellated monsters. But his expertise stops short at one thing - real life Pokemon. And when he embarks on his first real journey he quickly learns the 'perfect' Pokemon is not simply obtained by the push of a few buttons.
1. The Gamer's Vigil

**Chapter One  
The Gamer's Vigil**

Midnight was a distant memory. The brightly lit screen, headache inducing in its intensity, was a beacon in the grimy, cluttered room as line after line of text flashed up. Its user, a dishevelled young man with dirty blonde hair glanced at it, occasionally inputting a command. Simultaneously, he played a copy of the latest Pokemon game on a slightly battered Nintendo 3DS adorned with various stickers and refreshed the latest page on an internet forum using a state-of-the-art smartphone.

The tiny room was like a shrine to a lost boyhood. Game cases, toys and memorabilia from popular franchises littered shelves bolted to the plain walls. Old consoles from years ago were tucked, uniform straight like Tetris blocks, in the space underneath a gaming stand. Heavy textbooks, never read, lay in the dusty shadows of albums documenting twenty years' worth of precisely ordered trading cards. Old wrappers and empty cans made an adventurous escape from an overflowing waste bin in the corner, leaking week old soda and sauce over a once moss green carpet. A pile of abandoned clothes sat perilously near to a maze of jumbled wires, chargers and adaptors, once fondly christened by an optimistic visitor as "Spaghetti Junction". The only personal items easily perceived were newspaper clippings, pinned haphazardly to the wall, depicting a local winner of a nationwide Pokemon Online Championship, and a shabby name badge stamped with the name "Paul".

A series of bleeps coming from the laptop caught the gamer's attention and he lazily lifted his head. His opponent had finally made his move, agonisingly and frustratingly close to the imposed five minute time limit.

_BayleefInForever's Blastoise used Dragon Pulse. It's not very effective…_

"Predictable. What a shame." The gamer chuckled, deftly inputting a command.

_Your Magnezone used Volt Switch. It's super effective! _

_BayleefInForever's Blastoise fainted!_

_BayleefInForever has forfeited the match!_

As the screen darkened and returned to the home screen, the disappointed gamer relaxed into the stiff backed chair. "A forfeit? What a wuss."

Looking through the stats board to the left of the screen, he took note of his achievements. Twenty six wins to just three losses, and those losses could easily be attributed to hax. One stray critical hit and a Focus Blast defying a 30% chance that it would miss. Battles swayed unfairly by the roll of a dice, not the skill of the battlers.

"Might as well make it one more battle to make it the even thirty." He mumbled to himself, readjusting himself in the chair and stretching. His feet kicked several empty cans of _Feraligatr _energy drink and his joints cracked painfully, yet satisfyingly, with the movement.

Before he could scour his friend list for someone to battle, a message blipped on-screen. A user named Penny-From-Heaven21, a relative newcomer to PokeMMO who had challenged him some weeks ago, lost pitifully and then appeared on his forum, IvyTrail, the following day. She was effervescent to an extreme - like an explosion of fizzy juice after someone had shaken the can - and seriously lacking any of the skills or knowledge desired for long-time membership. Irritatingly enough, the majority of the primarily male audience of IvyTrail didn't object to her presence and he had not yet been able to get her to leave.

"_Heyy! How did your Championship thing go the other day?" _

\- Penny-From-Heaven21, 03:19am.

"_You mean the trading card championships? I won, of course."_

\- MasterAndCommander89, 03:20am.

_"Wow, congratulations! I'm really happy for you."_

\- Penny-From-Heaven21, 03:20am.

_"No need to congratulate me. All I had to do was turn up and defend my title. Besides, it wasn't like any of those creeps gave me any trouble anyway. Piece of cake._"

\- MasterAndCommander89, 03:21am.

"_Have you let Dest know yet? I'm sure he'll love hearing about it."_

\- Penny-From-Heaven21, 03:22am.

"_He's not been online since I got home this afternoon. Thought I'd send him a PM tomorrow and find out what he's been doing. At any rate, I gotta go. Work tomorrow. See ya._"

\- MasterAndCommander89, 03:23am.

No sooner was he sure the message had sent, he switched his status to Offline. That last battle would have to wait after all.

With a low groan, he heaved himself out of his chair. He didn't bother turning his laptop off, instead just closing the lid and letting it rest. The tiny single bed in the corner was piled with dirty clothes and he swept them aside nonchalantly, along with most of the bedsheets, as he looked for his work uniform. He grimaced. The sheets smelled pretty ripe. They'd probably need to be changed soon; assuming he could ever coax the washing machine into working again. Eventually, he found his uniform, balled up, unwashed, with a pair of last week's underwear clinging to them. He scooped up a bottle of air freshener, kept handy on his bedside table, and promptly emptied half the can along the folds of his uniform.

"There. Clean." He decided, plopping the crumpled clothes along the back of the chair.

He settled into bed, trying to fill his mind with memories of the day's victory at the annual Pokemon Trading Card Championship. Instead, it was rudely punctuated with thoughts of his eight hour shift tomorrow; best known as 'work brain'. Eight hours of spitting out the same tired words at rude, pushy customers over and over again: "Is that everything for you?" "Would you like a bag?" "Could I interest you in our rewards card?" At least the pay was decent and the managers didn't hate him yet. Plus, the girls weren't too bad to look at, either. Sadly though, a lot of them _did_ hate him.

His sleep was fitful, waking up every hour or so, until he gave up trying around 8am. With four hours until his shift started, he didn't bother showering or making breakfast. Gaming didn't make you dirty and there was very little in the flat that qualified as edible. Instead, he pulled his Nintendo 3DS out from under his pillow, booted up his copy of Pokemon X and continued where he left off. Eyes heavy and thick-headed, it was lucky all he had to do was occasionally change the direction of the analogue stick as his character sped back and forth through Camphrier Town. Egg after egg hatched, each spitting out an Eevee. After every batch of four eggs hatched, it was a quick trek to the Judge in Kiloude City for his evaluation. And more often than not, it was a groan of annoyance and a soft reset, before the whole lot started again.

Then, just as his mind was starting to wander to the thought that he'd really have to get up for work soon, something the judge said caught his attention.

"Outstanding potential…" he muttered, furiously hammering the A button. "Best stat, HP… Attack, Defence… Special Attack, Special Defence… Speed… Can't be better…" He paused for a second, before realising. "Holy shit!" He cried, thrusting his 3DS into the air. "Flawless Eevee! Finally!"

He dragged his laptop over to the bed and quickly cycled through his contact list.

_Dude. Just hatched a Flawless Eevee. That shit is awesome, man. Sassy nature too. Gonna get me a bitchin' Umbreon with this. Also, where the balls have you been? Just came back from the Trading Card Championships. I beat all those bitches AGAIN, yo. Anyway, hit me up later, I gotta go to work_."

He fought the urge to slip his 3DS into the pocket of his work trousers before leaving. He had already faced a warning from the store manager when they caught him with it one particularly quiet evening. His uniform was creased and crinkled and still smelled pretty awful, but it was a nice day outside, he reasoned. The fresh air would blow the smell away.

He made it into work with barely a minute to spare. His supervising manager, a camp little guy with thinning black hair, trilled "Good afternoon" to him and told him to go to tills straight away. He shrugged and did what he was told. Being on tills meant you got to sit down and you didn't have to work the endless cages of stock wedged into that tiny warehouse.

There was only one other person manning the tills when he slumped his way onto the shop floor. A petite little blonde girl, about five foot nothing and with glasses too big for her face. She waved him down as he approached, signalling a bottle of wine sitting in a customer's basket.

"Could you authorise me, please, Paul?" she asked sweetly.

"Sure." He shrugged, leaning over and punching in his access code. "Surely it must be about time to take that off, though?"

"I'm not eighteen until January…" she sighed, turning back towards her customer. "Sorry for your wait there, until I'm eighteen I need to be authorised to sell age-restricted products."

The customer grunted in reply at her standard company apology and Paul slouched back to his own till just as a woman with a trolley full of items and four kids pulled up next to it. As he started scanning their shopping through, the woman leant over, brandishing a packet of their own brand Truly Tempting Poketreats.

"You don't have any of the Moore and More Poketreats, do you?"

"Any of the what, sorry?"

"The Moore and More Poketreats. There didn't seem to be any on the shelves."

"Oh." Paul struggled to conceal a sigh. This was going to be one of _those _people. "Do you want me to have a quick look down the back for you, see if there's any there?"

"That would be lovely, if you don't mind? My Meowth just will not eat anything else."

"Sure thing," Paul said, heaving himself out of the chair and ambling back towards the warehouse. However, filled to the brim and with the several cases of Pokemon goods trapped behind cages of biscuits and juices, he didn't even bother looking. Instead, he hovered around the warehouse, counting seconds in his head until he reached a reasonable amount of time to be away.

By the time he returned to his customer, the place was in an uproar. A line of people had formed behind the smaller kiosk till, despite there being no-one serving, a self-check-out machine was malfunctioning again and repeating the words "Please scan your rewards card!" in a demonic voice and the children of Paul's customer had opened bottles of juice he hadn't scanned through and no amount of their mother's shouting could convince them to part with them.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't see any down the back." Paul said, collapsing back into his chair.

The woman groaned. "Oh, really? None at all."

"None at all, I'm sorry."

The woman's eldest child piped up. "Won't Sheba eat them, mum? Does she _have _to have those fancy ones? They smell really funny." He added, wrinkling his nose.

"She won't eat any others." The woman fretted, looking at Paul. "Have your Pokemon had these before? Do they like them?"

"I don't keep any Pokemon," Paul resumed scanning.

"You don't?" the woman repeated, incredulously.

"You don't have a Pokemon?" the eldest child cried. "But why not?"

"I just never got a Pokemon when everyone else did, I guess." He shrugged. "My family is the same. Nobody really keeps Pokemon."

"What a shame…" the woman sighed. "I wouldn't know what to do without my Sheba. She's such a little darling."

Paul nodded politely as the woman continued gushing about her beloved Meowth, all the way up to getting her shopping packed, back into the trolley and getting her brood of kids out the door. He let a sigh escape him. Today was definitely going to be one of those days.

Fifteen minutes is just not long enough for a break, Paul cursed as he eventually escaped the hell on the shop floor after a seemingly endless two hours. Slamming a quick-heat burger into the staff microwave, he collapsed into a chair and snapped open another can of _Feraligatr _energy drink. Another of his co-workers, Darren, barged into the staffroom after him. Infamous among the managers for his slow, drawling voice and his unmanageable curly hair, Darren seemed to take pushing the boundaries of 'professional' as a personal challenge.

"Dude. How you been? Or where you been, even?"

"I was up in Violet City for a few days." Paul replied, taking a savage bite out of his burger. "Went up to the Pokemon Trading Card Championships."

"Oh yeah, I remember Mike saying something about that now. How did it go?"

"Pretty good. I won."

"Dude, congrats." Darren clapped him on the shoulder. "But man, I don't get you. All these Pokemon championships and online games… But you don't even _own _a Pokemon! _I _own a Pokemon and I can barely look after myself!"

"You've got a Sunflora. They're hardly high maintenance. Leave it out in the sun for 16 hours of the day and it'll still be fine."

"True enough, true enough." Darren chuckled. "But dude, why would you spend so much time on games and online stuff when you could have the real thing?"

"Well, let me ask you this, Darren." Paul drained the last of his can of _Feraligatr_ and opened another one. "You play Guitar Hero, right?"

"Dude, of course. Expert on everything!"

"And do you play _actual _guitar?"

"Well… no."

"And your brother plays all those dumb sports games, right? But he doesn't play _actual _sports. Same logic."

"Dude, if you say so." Darren shrugged. "Anyway, I better get a shift on. I'm heading home."

"Dammit, man. Take me with you." Paul called after him.

"No chance, dude!" he shouted back before the door slammed and all was quiet once more.

That is, until the cheery echo of the bell from the shop floor rang throughout the break room and warehouse, closely followed by the snuffling voice of the under-manager on the announcement speaker.

"All till-trained staff to checkout, please! Repeat, _all _till-trained staff to checkout!"

Paul growled, mourning the loss of his half-eaten burger and half-finished juice. He hesitated a moment before forcing himself to his feet and returning to the shop floor.

There was one advantage to living in a place as small as Cherrygrove City – he didn't have to walk too far in the dark and the cold to get home. He was lucky he lived close, in a small apartment complex right in the middle of the city and no more than ten minutes away from any necessities. Well, whatever limited necessities you could boast about in Cherrygrove. There was the beach, of course, and something of a thriving tourist trade, but that was all you could really say for it.

He debated about calling his parents as he mooched along the empty roads under the dim lights of the streetlamps. Then again, they were holidaying in a villa in Slateport City, and probably didn't want to be disturbed at ten o'clock at night.

Luckily for him, there were a couple of slices of bread and some only slightly hardened cheese in the fridge, which he demolished before heading to his room. There was an argument waiting for him on one of the threads on IvyTrail, which he took great delight in scanning.

"_What's wrong with training Pokemon as they are? I've never paid attention to natures or anything and my Pokemon turned out just fine. I mean, I've got a Lv100 Charizard that owns everything with Blast Burn, so I must be doing something right!"_

Paul chuckled as he read the replies, almost pitying the poor, naïve noob player that had posted the comment.

_"If you don't pay attention to IVs and EVs, you're basically resigning yourself to ignorance. If you battled someone who actually knew what they were doing, you'd end up getting creamed._"

In the middle of the comments, Penny-From-Heaven21 had posted a reply that had gone largely ignored. "_What's wrong with just… training Pokemon? It doesn't matter how. We're all playing the game, so you know, let's just play the game!"_

Rolling his eyes at seeing the hundreds of comments and no moderator management, he decided to finish the argument once and for all.

"_Guys, really, this again? This conversation has been banned by the other moderators countless times. All the same, I'll give my two cents since all of you have as well. The sooner you guys learn that EV training is the best way, the better. What's the point in just crippling their potential just because you wanna be all high and mighty and "I'm raising Pokemon as they are!" like you're better than us? These game mechanics exist for a reason. This isn't real life. You wanna raise a Pokemon like they are? Go out and catch a real one. Love won't win you a battle here."_

He'd probably get a discipline order from the head moderator for that comment and judging from the several angry comments that popped up only a few seconds later, there'd be a lot of members gunning for it as well. He just didn't get those idiots.

I wonder if Dest is online yet, he wondered, copying a link to the argument and sending it to his email account, under the subject "ROFL". There was no immediate reply, so he booted up PokeMMO and started battling, once again in search of that elusive chain of thirty wins, up until the sky was lightened with tangerine and pinks and it was time to get ready for work again.


	2. A Challenger Approaches

**Chapter Two  
A Challenger Approaches**

For the following week, days crept by with little incident. As always, he divided them into 'work days' and 'non work days'. Days where he had to get out of bed, into some semblance of 'presentable' and spend countless hours with the disgruntled locals of Cherrygrove, generally mad over pointless issues And then there were the glorious 'nothing' days where no-one cared if he balled himself up in his bed with only a laptop and games console for company, and spoke to no-one but strangers online.

There was unwelcome news waiting for Paul when he turned up for work on Saturday morning, however. The supermarket had hired two new members of staff and after being introduced to them, Paul already knew they were that irritating brand of 'suck up' that would get on his nerves. Consequently, the hours of many of the staff had been reduced; which quickly became a hot topic in the break room.

"They can't reduce my hours!" one person wailed. "I've been here for six years; they can't do that to me!"

"I'm only part time after school, so it doesn't make too much difference to me," one of the younger employees admitted sheepishly.

"What about you, bro?" Darren nudged Paul in the ribs.

"Doesn't bother me too much. More free time is always good, and so long as I make enough to cover rent and eat, I'm happy."

The other members of staff shared uncertain looks at Paul's answer. Darren chuckled. "That's a very nihilistic view of life, dude." He said grandly.

"And where the hell did you learn such a complicated word? More than three syllables is a bit of a struggle for you normally, isn't it?" Paul retorted, not missing a beat.

A ripple of laughter went through the break room. Darren shrugged. "Whatever, man."

Paul checked the time. He had been fortunate in landing one of the 'golden shifts', an easy 10 till 2. It was a coveted time to be working – starting late enough so that you got a decent sleep and finishing early enough that you still had most of the day free. It was a peak time shift, with lots of families coming in and out, so the time slipped past without even noticing. And just as he expected, it was already over.

It was a pleasantly warm Saturday with a refreshing salty breeze blowing in from the coast. With the rest of the day his to fritter away as he pleased, he turned away from the town centre and headed for a small park just beyond the Pokemon Centre. A group of local kids and trading card game enthusiasts often staked out a corner there and held amateur tournaments; handy for when he wanted something a little more social than online gaming. The people held him to something of a high regard, knowing his reputation as a champion, so the company was normally pleasant, instead of only tolerable.

There were five players crammed around a tiny, fold-up table engrossed in a heated battle. But as he pointedly dumped his bag to signal his arrival, they all paused and turned to face him.

The eldest of the gamers currently present was only fourteen, but he was already taller and broader than Paul. "Hey! The triumphant returns."

Paul chuckled. "So, I take it you heard?"

"Course we did!" the long girl of the group piped up. Coincidentally, she was the only one Paul had actually made an effort to remember the name of. "In fact, we're all kinda annoyed you hadn't showed up earlier. Mark said he saw you at work three days ago."

"Aww, what's the matter, Monica? Did you miss me?" he grinned, tossing her a can of energy drink from a six pack he had brought along.

"Like hell." She caught the incoming can easily. "But battling all these wimps is getting old. Who's better to challenge than the three time region-wide champion?"

"A compelling point." He nodded. "Alright, I suppose we can have a battle if it means that much to you. But we'll wait until the other two finish."

She nodded, satisfied, and plonked herself down on the ground. Paul sat next to her and the two of them slurped from their cans as the young gamers continued their match.

"Where's the other guy?" Paul eventually asked, some five minutes of awkward silence later. "The one with all the hair… and those stupid earrings."

"Oh, him." Monica scowled. "He took off about a week back. He finally got his trainer license through. Kept calling the games stupid and acting like he was better than us because he got a real Pokemon."

"Really? And what Pokemon did he get?"

"…A Hoppip."

Paul nearly spat out the mouthful of energy drink with his urge to laugh. "Oh, don't you worry, Monica. Any idiot who has a _Hoppip _has no business pretending like he's better than anyone."

Monica chuckled to herself and tucked her knees under her chin. "Perhaps. But I hate people like that, you know? Just cos he got a Pokemon and all… doesn't make him any better than us. Especially when there are some of us who just can't get Pokemon for whatever reason…"

"Mm." Paul murmured, keen to move the subject along. "Hey, look, I think they're wrapping up their battle. Come on, let's get it over with."

The small group played until the late evening hours, Paul easily besting every opponent that sat opposite his table. The time passed quickly. He made the journey back to the centre of town alone, stopping briefly at the supermarket to pick up something for dinner. One of the part time guys was finishing his shift just as he arrived and they exchanged a brief hello. He was being met by his girlfriend who nestled a dopey looking Wooper in the crook of her arm. She kissed him loudly and enthusiastically. Paul grimaced.

He bought a ready-made curry and a stack of crisps, as well as another 6 pack of his favourite _Feraligatr _juice and lugged it all home as the skies grew darker. There was a stack of mail lying on the doormat which he kicked to the side as he lumbered in. The curry was less than stellar by the time he finished nuking it; watery, tasteless sauce and stodgy rice. Most of it went in the bin in favour of the six pack of crisps.

There was nothing on the tiny television worth watching. Some cutesy documentaries about abandoned Pokemon, endless repeats of various sitcoms, and bad 80's movies. He flicked through them idly, disinterested, before retrieving his laptop from the room. Just as he sat down again with the aim of signing into PokeMMO, his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi sweetheart!" the voice at the other end trilled.

"…Hi mum."

"I was trying to get a hold of you for ages earlier, darling. Where were you?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Hanging out with some of the kids in the park."

"Oh, Paul." His mother tutted. "You have to stop that. Those kids are all really young. People might get… suspicious."

"Mum, for goodness's sake, we were just playing Pokemon."

"I see." Paul could sense his mother stiffening even from hundreds of miles away on the other end of a phone.

"What do you want anyway, mum? I thought you were too busy enjoying yourself in Slateport."

"Oh, we've had some wonderful news, darling! Has Kathleen called you yet?"

Kathleen, his elder sister, was a doctor in a private health clinic in Goldenrod City, and was a decidedly stuck-up woman that Paul would struggle finding any sort of affection towards. "Well, no. She hasn't talked to me in ages."

"Oh, I expect she's been that busy, darling." His mother replied offhandedly. "She called me a little while ago. She's getting married!"

Paul blinked. "She's what?"

"She's engaged!"

"To who?"

"That wonderful surgeon that works with her! Dr Inglis."

Paul snorted. "Kathleen Inglis?"

"I think it's quite becoming of her, darling." She replied grandly. Paul could just imagine her puffing her chest up with pride like an overripe balloon.

"Wait, hang on a second. Wasn't Kathleen with that Pokemon co-ordinator?"

"Oh honey, that was a long time ago."

"It wasn't _that _long ago! I hadn't even heard of this new guy. When did she meet him?"

"She told me he started working with them in January, I believe."

"January? This year?"

"That is what she said."

"But mum, it's only September!"

"Well, perhaps, it is a little quick…" she hesitated. "But he comes from such a wonderful family and they seem very happy together."

Paul groaned. "Well, pass on my congratulations, I guess…"

"I will do, honey. So, what's new in your life?"

"Not much…" he said evasively.

"How's work?"

"It's fine. My hours are getting reduced though."

"Why?" she demanded at once.

"They hired some new people. Had to reduce everyone else's hours to make it work."

"Well, that hardly seems to be solving any problems! Are you going to manage alright?"

"It's fine, mum. I'll still make my rent and so long as I can eat and keep warm, it'll be fine."

"Hmm… You know, Paul, if you'd stayed at university—"

"Oh, mum, no. Not this again."

"Well, it's the truth!" she took a deep intake of breath, a sure sign she was about to deliver another of her infamous lectures. "What was it you were doing? Video game design? It might not be as worthy a profession as say… being a doctor or a lawyer… but oh, honey, you would have been wonderful as a lawyer, you know? You were always such a _brilliant_ arguer. But even with those video games, you would always be guaranteed something. People spend so much of their time on those infernal things, so you'd always be employed."

"Uh-huh…"

"It's still not too late to go back to university, darling."

"Mum, I've got a stack of loans already. I don't need any more."

"Well, your father and I would be happy to contribute—"

"Mum, no. I don't want you and dad to pay for me. Because then I'd just owe you and him money. And besides, what university is going to accept a dropout?"

"But—"

"Mum, I really don't want to talk about this!"

His mother let out a heaving sigh. "Fine. But don't think this conversation is over, Paul. Your father and I are going to discuss this."

"I'm twenty-four, Mum. I don't need you and Dad making my decisions for me." He wanted to add "again" to the end of that statement, but thought it best not to push her any further.

"We're not making your decisions for you. We're wanting the best for you. Kathleen's doing so well and Meghan is graduating next year… We want the same success for you."

"No, you want the same success for _you_…" he muttered, but not loud enough for them to hear it.

"But anyway, darling. What else is new?"

"Not much. I was at the Pokemon Trading Card Championships. I won, again."

"Did you, darling?" she said distractedly. "Which one is that? The Gameboy one?"

"No…" he grimaced. "First off, it's Nintendo 3DS, mother, and secondly, the clue was in the name. The _Trading Card _Championship."

"Oh, darling, they're all the same to me, you know I don't understand it. I barely understand why people keep Pokemon other than for work, let alone all those silly games."

"Well, at least that's something we _do _agree on…" he conceded.

"Of course, darling. Well, listen, we better go. Your father and I are going out to dinner in that lovely little five-star restaurant to celebrate Kathleen's news. I think that celebrity chef, what's his name…oh, I can't remember it right now, owns it."

"Is that right? Well, have a good time, then."

"Take care of yourself, darling. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye mum."

He waited for her to hang up and then dropped the phone on the arm of the chair. All of a sudden, he felt exhausted. Talking with his mother always left him feeling drained, especially when there was any mention of anything too personal. His sisters had always concerned themselves with success and ambition whereas he never cared. So long as he was warm, fed and entertained, he was content. Perhaps it was a case of the proverbial 'middle child' syndrome, but his parents had always preferred to encourage and devote time to his sisters.

Alone with his thoughts, he sat still for some time, the television flickering lazily in the background. The buzz of unfamiliar voices wasn't enough to fill the emptiness of the flat. He wanted his DS, to absorb himself in the repetitive, safe actions of chain breeding, but it was hidden under the pillow in his bedroom and the short walk seemed to stretch to a journey of a thousand steps.

His sister was getting married. He supposed it was hardly surprising. She had always received a fair amount of male attention and she was absurdly intelligent, but socially adept enough to mask it. A non-threatening kind of intelligent that appealed to most brands of men. She was a walking success story, one which their parents enjoyed bringing up over wine-filled dinner parties. Perhaps even more so after this. It wouldn't be long before Meghan would follow in her footsteps, qualifying as a high school maths teacher in a matter of months. And where would he be? A dropout with no career prospects, no relationships, and hobbies his parents could barely identify let alone care about.

He hated the effects his family had on him. His life ticked along just fine normally. Unremarkable, but just fine. He had no lofty ambitions but found he never needed those. But now and again, after the inevitable conversation with someone from his family, the reminder of his comparison stung and lingered painfully. He likened it to a papercut – it never seemed to hurt until the attention was drawn to it.

Don't think about it, he chided himself, reaching for his laptop and booting it up. There wasn't much activity on IvyTrain, most of the members were teenagers and with school just starting up again, they didn't have a lot of free time. He browsed through some old posts, researched a little about some rumoured upcoming Pokemon game and played a couple of unexciting matches on PokeMMO. When he checked the time, it was only a little after eleven o'clock. Bored and uninspired, he actually considered going to bed.

_Bleep! _

He glanced at the top of the screen. 'Inbox(1)' was flashing back at him. He hovered the cursor over the icon.

_"One unread message from DestinationOverload_"

"Dude, finally!" he cried, sitting up straighter and hammering the button.

"_Hey bro, sorry I never replied earlier. Last week's been pretty crazy. You know that great aunt I got down in Azalea Town? Yeah, she died. My mum's quite upset, so we all went up to the house to sort everything out. Then check this. My great aunt had a Smeargle, you know cos her late husband was some famous painter or something? Well, they've been trying to figure out what to do with it cos my aunt didn't want it to just go to a centre or be released since they've been together for like fifteen years or something like that. My great aunt knew I was the only one in the family who was into Pokemon and that, so guess what? She left it to me. You are now talking to a real, bona fide Pokemon trainer!"_

"_A Smeargle? Dude, I get that you're excited about having a Pokemon and it's pretty cool that it's something as unique as a Smeargle, but it's got the attack stats of an average towel._"

"_Yeah, it's not the best. Can't even run any cool sets on it, because it just doesn't have the power to use any decent moves. I'm taking it to the breeder's in Azalea sometime tomorrow, have it appraised and whatnot. I've Googled some basic breeders guides and I think it has a Relaxed nature. Considering it spends half the time just sleeping, it sounds about right. Then again, its owner just died so it could just be depressed or something."_

"_Relaxed nature Smeargle? You've basically crippled its only worthwhile stat. Can't you trade it for a better one?"_

"_I thought about it. Regular breeders don't deal with Smeargle cos they're so Zubatshit rare, you know? You need to go to a specialist. Besides, mum caught me checking the GTS earlier and gave me an earful about trading away my inheritance._"

"_Unlucky, bro. So what you gonna do with it?"_

"_Like I said, I'm bringing it to the breeders to check it over and have it appraised. It's not like Online when you can get all the IVs and the stats in easy values just like that, there's apparently a lot of observation needed and even then they can only give you an estimate of what they think could be their best aspects. I'll probably go and pick up my license for it tomorrow as well."_

_"You're actually gonna get a license for it? Is it worth it?"_

_"Dude, I'm pretty sure it's the law, lol."_

_"No, I mean, is it worth _training_?"_

_"Well, who knows? It's not a great starter Pokemon by any means, but hey."_

_"Whoa, hang on. Starter Pokemon? What do you mean?"_

_"Yeah, that's another thing, dude. I think I'm gonna take some time out from the forum. Give this whole training thing a shot, see what like."_

_"So… this is actually happening? Great DestinationOverload is abandoning his fame and fortune and setting out on a Super-Special-Snowflake Super-Inspiring Pokemon Journey? Dude, you've gone soft."_

_"Dude, one thing I have not gone is soft._"

"_But your Pokemon is most likely pretty shitty Natured, stats and trained. You don't even know what level it is._ _Why bother having any Pokemon that hasn't actually got a bit of potential?"_

_"Arceus, you don't get it. EV training, stats, nature… even battling online, that's all so goddamn easy. Input the values into a machine and it does it all for you. Even in the games, if you've got Synchronize, the Destiny Knot and Everstones, that's it. It's too easy. And it's getting too boring. I'm 25 now, maybe it's time I moved on from the games and got a little reality."_

_"That doesn't sound like the Dest I know. That sounds like that girlfriend of yours. What, she been telling you to 'grow up' and 'get a life' again? She doesn't understand." _

_"Hey, don't you dare bring Lily into this. I'm serious, dude. Perfect Pokemon and all that… yeah, that's easy in-game, but not in real life. I wanna try doing this in real life. I'm fed up of staring at a screen all the time."_

_"Dude, you're making a serious mistake."_

_"You're just saying that cos you're too much of a coward to do it."_

_"You take that back!"_

_"No, I won't take it back! You're always saying that I hide behind my fame and fortune, yet you're even worse than I am! You swan around that forum like you're the authority on every last little thing! You seem to think winning all these contests and competitions is so great, but I got news for you, buddy. It's not. You're just a sad little boy stuck playing with imaginary friends cos you scare off every normal person you go near!"_

"_You're a real bastard, you know that? I'm not sad and I'm not a coward!"_

_"Then prove it. Get a Pokemon and get out there. Do it for real."_

_"Well, if we're gonna do that, how about we make it interesting?"_

_"I'm listening."_

_"Well, how about this. First person to find four Pokemon with an Ideal nature __**and**__ a judge's appraisal on ideal stats. Like, having a Pokemon suited to attack show some physical attribution that shows their attack stat is ideal."_

_"You're on, pal. Let's meet, say… at Mt Silver in a month, to assess?"_

_"Mt. Silver? What are you? A walking cliché? Make it somewhere interesting."_

_"Fine, fine. How about the Lake of Rage?"_

_"That's more like it." _

He turned away from the laptop, mind reeling, when another message popped up on-screen. He grinned to himself, thinking that his friend had just chickened out of the whole thing or had sent back a "Dude, just kidding!" The real message, however, managed to elicit a rare snort from him.

"_Bro, you realise we've literally just done a 'Fite me, IRL', right?"_

He sat back in his chair and allowed what just happened to wash over him. Panic threatened, ice crystals erupting over his skin. He gripped the desk firmly, his knuckles almost bursting from his hands. What had he just agreed to?

His mind ticked all night, restless and intrusive. His temper, coupled with a definitive competitive streak, had been the doorway to many a problem in the past, but this was perhaps the rashest of them all. A real life Pokemon journey? His skin prickled at the thought. An inestimable amount of time spent trekking through mud, grass and weeds as you looked for Pokemon that might be only passable at best. His opinion was as staunch as it ever was – why go through all that effort and pain on the off chance something _might _be good? Online and in-game meant that it was all there at the click of a button, or _maybe_ an hour's worth of work. All of the satisfaction and none of the problems. All of the value, and none of the effort. He didn't consider himself a lazy person, not by any standard; just an efficient one.

On the other hand, he was never one to say no to a challenge. And he had noticed a distinct frostiness in DestinationOverload's behaviour towards him ever since he had told him he was going away for the Pokemon Trading Card Championships. Perhaps he was jealous? He seemed to take it as a personal insult when members would come to Paul instead of him for comments or queries or opinions, especially as Dest had been a moderator far longer than Paul had. Perhaps this was his way at getting back at him for all the times he had bested Dest.

If this was the case, perhaps he had better things to do than indulge some jealous little boy. He had work to think about, after all. He couldn't afford to take that much time off.

Unless… there was a way to win the bet with almost no effort on his part?

A wicked smile burst over Paul's face and he cracked his stiff fingers, already confident this would be one more competition win to add to his ever-expanding repertoire.


	3. The Breeder and the Beast

**Chapter Three  
The Breeder and the Beast**

"Hello? Is that the, uh… Rainy Day Breeders?"

"Yes, it is. This is Joanne speaking, how can I help you?"

"Y-yeah, hi there. My name's Paul, I'm calling from Cherrygrove. And yeah, um… Well… Look, I'll level with you here. I don't really know much about Pokemon in real life so I don't really know the equivalent… I'm looking for a flawless Riolu."

"A… flawless Riolu?! What do you mean by that?"

"You know, perfect IVs and an ideal nature."

"IV stats…?" The breeder at the other end of the phone replied, bewildered. "Sir, I'm sorry, but with real life Pokemon, we don't _do _IV stats."

"IV stats aren't a thing?"

"Certainly not. I suspect you've spent a lot of time on Pokemon games, but I'm sorry to tell you those just aren't applicable with real life Pokemon."

"Oh. So what's the equivalent?"

"Not as simple as you think." She replied. "Breeding so-called 'flawless' Pokemon in real life is a lot more… let's just say 'difficult' in real life. There's no stat calculator. It's all in the Pokemon's build, their condition, their health… and even then, you're not guaranteed to maintain those stats if you don't train them right."

"Sorry?"

"Well, think about it. Even a Pokemon built for speed won't be all that fast if it doesn't get regular exercise or eats nothing but junk all the time, will it?"

"Uhh…"

"What you're looking for _is _possible. For a Pokemon like the one you're describing, you would ensure the breeding parents are in prime physical condition. Often we would use Pokemon that have had a long battle history. We would hope the baby's physical condition would be reminiscent of its parents. But it's very rarely enough for a judge's appraisal to be 'ideal'. The Pokemon needs to be trained and monitored to make sure it stays that way."

"That… sounds like a lot of work."

"Well, of course it is. And with enough hard work and effort, even Pokemon that aren't born in great physical condition can be seen to be 'ideal'. Even to a judge."

Paul made a noise that sounded something like 'complicated'.

"Pokemon breeding in real life isn't as easy as those stupid games suggest." The breeder continued. "The Breeders' Association has been campaigning for ages to get the game mechanics changed to reflect the actual effort we have to go through. We don't get to use fancy items to make Pokemon pass down their natures and we don't just get to input a set of values and have the Pokemon turn out exactly the way we want them to."

"I… I see…"

"And I'm sorry to disappoint you further, but I'm afraid this Breeders doesn't deal with Riolu. You need to get in contact with a Tier 3 Breeder."

"A Tier what now?"

"You mean to tell me you don't even know about Tiered Breeding?"

"No, in a word."

"Well, I assume you know of the way trainers use badges they win from Gym Leaders as a symbol of their status and achievement, right?"

"Of course."

"Breeders use this thing called 'Tiered Breeding'. Each tier represents a different stage in achievement. With each new tier, the breeding company or breeder is able to breed different and more difficult Pokemon."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute." Paul interrupted. "You mean to tell me there's restrictions on breeding? Limitations?"

"Of course there is. If every breeder was allowed to breed anything, there'd be no control over supply and demand. Some Pokemon are very complicated and very dangerous to breed. We can't let amateurs breed things like… I don't know, a Weezing or a Magcargo. And things like baby Pokemon or Pokemon that don't have a specified gender need a very specific approach. You have to be extremely competent."

"So… what are you saying?"

"My breeding company is only Tier 2, what we would call a Novice Breeder. You want to find an Adept Breeder or higher, bearing in mind that the higher the tier, the higher the likelihood you'll find what you want."

"Alright. Well, thank you for you—"

"And one more thing you may have to consider. The Breeders Association has a very strict policy on over-breeding. Things like baby Pokemon and starter Pokemon are often in very high demand. If everyone who could breed those _were _actually breeding them, we'd have a problem with over-breeding them and nothing else would be bred. So, there's only a select few breeding agencies out there who are currently licensed to breed them."

"So how come in-game I could take a Lucario and Ditto to any Day Care and get a Riolu then?"

"Because the game companies make things too easy." She deadpanned. "Most breeding facilities don't operate the way the ones in the games do. Big breeding companies that have reached the Master Tier will breed any compatible Pokemon they're given – for a fee, of course. Little ones like my company can only breed Pokemon given to us by trainers that correspond to our tier. Oh, and as for the Ditto thing… they're practically gold dust to breeders. They're so rare and valuable, even _I'd_ kill for a good one."

"Well… do you think you could find me the number of a Breeder's that _does _breed Riolu?"

"I wish I could help you, but unfortunately we're under-staffed at the moment and our computer system is currently down. I can't even access breeding records of the Pokemon we have here, let alone any information about other breeders."

"Oh…"

"Do you have a local breeder's in Cherrygrove City?"

"I… think so?" he replied, some vague memory resurfacing of a tiny breeding centre right on the outskirts of town.

"They'll probably have the number you need. I'd suggest heading over there and talking to whoever's in charge. They'll be able to tell you everything you need to know a lot better than I will over the phone."

"Alright then," Paul said stiffly. "Thanks for your help."

"Bye now."

Paul slammed the phone down. This venture was becoming increasingly complicated. But the memory of his bet with Dest remained firmly at the front of his mind. There was no way he would allow himself to lose to someone like him for the sake of a few phone calls.

The Little Stars Day Care and Breeders was a tiny building on the precipice of Cherrygrove City. It could have easily been mistaken for just an ordinary house, were it not for the expansive back garden smothered in flowers and shrubs. He hesitated at the white gate, running his thumb along the chipped paint until it came off in flakes.

The butter yellow door, pebbled path and cheery "Come on in, we're open!" doormat seemed like something out of a storybook. It reminded him of his grandmother's old house; the kind of house where you would be assaulted with tea and scones the minute you came within a five metre proximity.

While he stood deliberating all this, the front door of the house opened and a girl appeared in the doorway. The first thing Paul noticed about her were her clothes – dungarees equally patterned with giant pink flowers and smeared with grass stains and mud. She was clutching a giant bag of compost that was almost bigger than her, which she almost dropped when she saw Paul.

"Oh! H-hello there!" she cried, struggling with the bag of compost.

Paul stood there as she finally let the bag drop to the ground. "Hi."

"How can I help you?" she asked, smoothing her wrinkled dungarees down.

"Yeah, I'm looking for the head breeder. Do you know when they'll be home?"

"Um…" the girl giggled. "The head breeder? That would be me."

"You?"

"Yep. My name's Annabelle and I run the Little Stars!"

"Oh."

"So, how can I help you?"

"I'm looking for some contact details."

"Contact details? For who?"

"I phoned up a breeder's in Violet City to get a phone number for a… Tier 3 breeder or higher? Their systems are down so they told me to come to a local one."

"Oh…" Annabelle looked strangely disappointed. "Well, you better come in, then."

Annabelle's house was… busy, to say the least. Crammed to the brim with knick-knacks and collectables of every shape and size, her furniture seemed to groan collectively under its weight. Every step he took, something rattled and Paul had visions of something jumping off a shelf to its death on the wooden floor. He smelled fresh bread, the wonderful crusty sort that was a favourite for his sandwiches when he was young. Annabelle invited him to sit on her blue patchwork sofa while she disappeared into the kitchen, and he sat, rigid, like a boy called up in front of a headteacher.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Lemonade?"

It really _was _like visiting a grandmother's house, Paul thought in mild amusement. "Lemonade." He called back.

There wasn't a single clock in the room set to the right time, he noticed as he waited. A Noctowl clock sitting over the mantelpiece of a boarded up fire seemed to have stopped altogether, while a larger, rectangular clock above a small television was ten minutes fast. A little alarm clock on top of a desk was ticking along at three minutes slow.

Annabelle returned a few minutes later with two glasses and a plate of biscuits which she sat on the coffee table between the sofa and the armchair. The lemonade tasted fresh and sweet – obviously homemade rather than poured from a tin or a bottle. The biscuits smelled quite strongly of ginger and something else he couldn't identify and they were slightly burnt around the outer edges. Another homemade offering, perhaps.

"So, you're looking for a Tier 3 Breeders?" Annabelle asked, taking a seat opposite him.

"I am, yeah."

"Hmm," Annabelle mused. "Off the top of my head I can think of three Tier 3 or above breeders close to us. Goldenrod City has a Tier 3, Blackthorn has a Tier 6 and Olivine's just upgraded to Tier 4. I think Ecruteak is working on Tier 3, but I don't know if they've achieved them, yet."

Paul nodded. "Alright."

"What kind of Pokemon are you looking for, exactly?"

"Riolu."

"…right." Annabelle's face promptly fell. "Well, I'm afraid Riolu has just come out of breeding circulation. Blackthorn has the license for them and I think they won't come back into circulation until next month."

"So, there's no-one else that's going to be breeding them?"

"Not in Johto, no. As for the other regions, I'm afraid I couldn't tell you."

"Typical…" Paul muttered.

"If you are still interested, though, I could give you the number for Blackthorn's Breeders and you could possibly reserve an egg space?"

"Can that be done?"

"If you can pay for it, yes. Are you interested?"

"Yeah."

"Great. I'll get on that."

There was a desk and filing cabinet in the corner of the room that Paul hadn't previously noticed. Annabelle pulled out a giant folder and began cycling through the pages, muttering to herself.

"You don't have a computer system for this?"

"No computer," Annabelle admitted sheepishly. "We're only a small, Tier 1 Breeders. Well, I say "we"… There's just me here at the moment. I only opened up recently and I haven't had enough business to get a computer set up just yet."

"Maybe that's why you haven't had much business."

"Yes, perhaps," Annabelle laughed sadly. "So, until then, it's old fashioned phone book and filing systems for me. Aha, there we go. Blackthorn's Acrewood Breeders. Tell you what, I'll give them a ring and pass the phone over."

She still had one of those old-fashioned plug-in phones, a world away from the digital cordless phones Paul was used to. He couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her.

"Hi there, this is Annabelle Lawrence from Little Stars Breeders in Cherrygrove. I was wondering if I could speak to someone regarding the booking of a Riolu egg for its next breeding circulation? Yeah, hi there. I have the interested trainer here, if you'd just hold on a moment." Annabelle held the phone out to Paul.

"Hello?"

"Hi there, this is Sam with Acrewood Breeding. Annabelle tells me you're interested in one of our Riolu eggs?"

"I am, yes."

"Alright. Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"I'm looking for an Adamant nature Riolu with perf— uh, ideal… attributes?"

There was a short silence on the other end of the phone. "I'm sorry?"

"Look, I don't know much about this, alright?" Paul muttered into the phone, his face reddening furiously. "I'm looking for a Riolu that's best suited for attacking and would get a judge's appraisal of being… ideal?"

There was a sigh at the other end of the phone. "Very well, but I hope you realise that a Pokemon of that calibre may take additional time to breed to a satisfactory measure."

Paul grimaced. "Yeah, I do…"

"And an additional fee."

"I can imagine that, yes."

"We'll be looking for something in the region of three thousand for a Riolu of that calibre."

After a mental check of what was remaining in his bank account, it was a quick decision. "That'll be fine, thank you."

"Very well. Can I take a record of your name, please?"

"It's Paul Masterson."

"And a contact number?"

Paul reeled off the number of his mobile phone.

"That's lovely, thank you. So, we expect your Riolu to be ready for pick-up in about three to four weeks."

"Ready for… pick-up?"

"Of course. We don't transfer or send eggs or newly bred Pokemon. We have a strict pick-up policy on every Pokemon we breed. No exceptions. You will need to arrive in person to collect your Pokemon and present a valid Pokemon license and trainer ID before payment."

"Sure, whatever."

"Alright then, we'll see you in three to four weeks. We've also got a breeding reference for you as well, the number 603293…"

Paul quickly tapped the number out on his phone as the employee recited it.

"Give that number when you get to the breeder's centre and everything will be handled for you, then. Is that alright?"

"That's great, thanks."

"Is there anything else?"

"I think that's all for the moment, thank you."

"Great. We'll see you soon. Thank you."

"Bye."

When Paul turned around to face Annabelle, her face was marred with annoyance. "'Flawless' Pokemon?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Forgive me for being unprofessional, but why so insistent on a so-called 'flawless' Pokemon?"

"You're a breeder. You understand how to get the best out of Pokemon, don't you?"

"Well, yeah… It's kinda my job."

"So, why work with less than the best?"

Annabelle growled. "I care more about the Pokemon than the stats or the nature. Every Pokemon is deserving of love and affection regardless of whether it's considered 'perfect' or not."

"That's a lovely attitude to have… for a breeder. But don't try and tell those of us that like our Pokemon to be the best that they can be that we're wrong. Love doesn't win you a battle. Stats do."

"Ugh. You sound like one of those gamer boys…" she groaned, before a horrible realisation dawned on her. "Oh Arceus… you're not, are you…?"

"I play competitively, yes."

"No!" she wailed. "You don't understand! Training Pokemon in a game… it's nothing compared to training Pokemon in real life!"

"Yes, I do. It's better. And easier."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Are you listening to yourself? You can't compare real Pokemon to a pile of pixels on some stupid games console. That's like saying people who… who are more conventionally good looking are better than everyone else."

Paul said nothing.

"You can't be a real trainer. Real trainers wouldn't even dare to talk about Pokemon like this. Are you? Are you even a real trainer?"

"Not… technically."

"What do you mean, not technically?"

"I have a trainer's license, it's just not here yet."

"Do you even own a single Pokemon?"

"No. Not yet."

"And that Riolu? That's supposed to be your first Pokemon?"

"Hopefully, yes."

Annabelle let out a cry of laughter. "You're so naïve. You'll never get to Blackthorn City on your own without at least one Pokemon to help you."

"What do you think I am, stupid?"

"Trust me, there aren't enough words in the English language to describe what I think you are."

"I came here to get my first Pokemon. I don't have any Pokeballs yet and the Pokemon that live around here aren't that good. I thought I could get something here that would help me get to Blackthorn to get what I really want."

Annabelle bristled. "You want a Pokemon? You want one of _my _Pokemon?"

"Yeah, I do."

"What the hell makes you think I would give you one of my Pokemon, if you're all going to do is just use them to get so-called "better" ones? What happens to that Pokemon afterwards? Do you get rid of it? Abandon it? I won't let you do that to an innocent Pokemon?"

"Aren't all Pokemon just glorified tools, though?"

A look of fury so strong passed over Annabelle's face that Paul carried on talking before she could get a chance to interrupt. "Look, I can pay you. And quite well, at that. You said yourself that your business is pretty… bad. All I want from you is something that isn't from around here. And if possible, something that a judge would consider 'flawless'."

"Well, you are, as we say in this business, Zubatshit out of luck." Annabelle replied. "I'm a Tier 1 breeder, so all I have available to me _is _local Pokemon. That and a few birds, a few rodents and some bugs. And as for being considered 'flawless', I don't even take that into consideration. A Pokemon is a Pokemon, no matter how weak or small it is, and every single one of them is deserving of love."

"That's nice." He said. "So, what have you got?"

"Very… very little…" Annabelle said, in a noticeably strained voice. "I'm a small breeders and we're not treated with a lot of respect from the Breeders' Association. If you really want to see, I'll take you out the back and show you, but knowing you… you'd just be disappointed."

"Then I shall prepare myself for the inevitable."

Annabelle let out a sigh. "Alright… follow me, then."

And with that, the young breeder led her visitor through the cluttered, colourful rooms of her tiny house and out into the back garden where an unwelcome sight lay in sombre wait for him.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Wow. This is a thing again. **

**Well... I don't really know what to say here. It's been absolutely forever. **

**Life has settled down a bit. New flat, new independence, new job. Waiting to hear back from university related stuff and I figured now that I have some semblance of normality going that I'll try and get back into my number one passion. **

**This chapter hasn't been edited much from when I finished it nearly 8 months or so ago, but the next one and hopefully subsequent ones will be of much higher quality. At some point, I'll redo this chapter and the previous two to bring them in line. **

**I'll also be working on a non-fanfiction project and dipping between the two of these in my spare time. I'm hoping to reclaim a little bit of my old glory xP **

**So, uh, yeah. Thanks for reading ****(if I have any readers left)**


	4. Brewed Awakening

**Chapter Four  
Brewed Awakening**

Paul was no stranger to the expansive gardens of the houses in Cherrygrove City. Rows upon rows of neat, unassuming houses were framed by meticulous, well-manicured gardens brimming with flowers and shrubbery. It was well documented that people put more thought and effort into their gardens than the houses themselves. Annabelle's garden was no difference.

Everything in the massive patch of land she owned was the product of an obvious passion and many, many hours of effort. The grass was cut, ruler straight to a few inches and a vibrant green most gardeners could only dream of achieving. The hedges that fenced off her property were preened to perfection. Paul imagined he could take a magnifying glass to it and find not one twig out of place. Saucer shaped flowers in every colour he could think of turned their faces to the burning sun. When he took a deep breath in, he detected the sweet, yet sickly, scent of honey.

As he stared around the intimidating majesty of such a well-kept garden, something collided sharply with his left shin. He glanced downwards to see a rather dumpy looking Pokemon staring up at him with narrowed eyes.

"Shroom! Shrooooom!" it chittered, slamming its head into his shin again.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Paul cried, leaping backwards out its way.

"Oh no, Dusty, stop that right now!" Annabelle shouted, darting over and scooping up the offending Shroomish. Paul expected it to struggle in her arms but it settled down instantly and a contented look passed over its face. "I'm sorry," Annabelle said, reddening. "It's how he says hello."

"By headbutting?"

"Believe me, I've tried to make him stop. He just won't."

She set the Shroomish down and he scuttled away into the protective depths of some bushes which were ripe with berries. Paul watched it bury itself in the undergrowth, mildly amused. "So… you breed Shroomish?"

Annabelle chuckled nervously. "I wish. I've had Dusty for a little while but I don't have anything that can breed with him yet."

"So what _can _you breed?"

"I'm getting to that." Another chuckle, this one noticeably more strained. "Hang on. And don't make any noise."

Paul mimed zipping his lip and crossed his arms.

Annabelle whistled loudly, a piercing and shrill noise quite unbecoming of a girl of her tiny stature. It reminded Paul of obnoxious sports fans. For a moment, all was still, and Paul began to wonder if this was all part of some elaborate hoax. Then, a rustling came from the undergrowth and something popped its vibrant red face from between the leaves.

"Hey, baby." Annabelle coaxed, dropping to her knees. "You gonna come out?"

The Pokemon had tiny antennae that twitched in curiosity at Annabelle's voice. Disentangling itself from the bushes and branches, it plopped onto its front, tiny wings flitting uselessly. In the end, Annabelle took pity on it and picked it up, cradling it in her arms like one would hold a newborn baby.

"...it's a Ledyba." Paul said blankly.

"Mm-hmm," Annabelle nodded, shifting the bug to a better position. It chirruped happily and nuzzled its tiny face into her shoulder. "And this is the only one of the eggs that managed to hatch without any…" She hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "...complications."

"Complications?"

"Y-yeah…" Paul noticed her grip tighten on the Ledyba. "I got a loan of the breeding parents a few months ago and managed to get about a dozen eggs. But… some of the eggs didn't hatch. And living in a place like this… well, any city or village, really, there's lots of wild Pokemon about. Eggs are easy prey. And well, newborn Ledyba can't really protect themselves and I… lost most of them. This little guy here is the only one that survived."

When Paul looked at the tiny chirruping thing in her arms he had a hard time believing how such a little helpless runt had managed to live this long, but he didn't dare voice that opinion. "Well… that's… um…"

"No, it's okay." Annabelle sighed, cuddling the Pokemon closer. "Like I said, breeding in real life… it's so much harder. You don't lose Pokemon in games like you can in real life, like to sickness or other Pokemon. Sometimes Pokemon just… die. Maybe for what seems like no reason. Or they get killed."

Paul shifted from foot to foot. "That must be tough."

She nodded. "I mean, yeah, there is the normal problem of "If I don't have any Pokemon to breed I can't make money, can't expand my business and can't climb up the breeding tiers." But that's nothing compared to having to… bury Pokemon that, you know, just didn't survive for whatever reason."

"Well… maybe that's all the more reason to breed things that are… genetically or biologically… 'better' than the other ones? Y'know, so they actually have a better chance of surviving."

Paul half expected Annabelle to get angry again. But to his surprise, her head bowed and her body drooped slightly. "Believe me, I can understand a little of what you mean."

He decided to push her a little further. "You know the whole thing. Survival of the fittest. Weaker things don't have as much of a chance. It's just nature."

"You almost sound like you're blaming the Pokemon themselves…" She still didn't sound angry. There was a melancholy tone to her voice that Paul couldn't quite pin down. "It's not the Pokemon's fault. If anything, it's mine. I mean, I'm the one entrusted with all those little lives. I was the one who couldn't take care of them. I was the one who didn't protect them properly." She lifted her head up and looked Paul squarely in the eye for the first time in the whole conversation. "You have to know that that's why I won't give a Pokemon to someone who won't take proper care of them. Or who'll abandon them." She added pointedly. "It's my way of protecting them."

"I… don't know what to say."

"I don't expect you to." She replied curtly. "I'm just saying that I won't give up this little one or _any _of the Pokemon I've bred to people I don't think will take proper care of them."

"It's not that. I just don't think a Ledyba is best suited for me."

"Well, if that's what you believe, then I won't try and convince you otherwise. It's just a bit of a shame, really. The way we're going, this little guy might not ever find a trainer."

"Uh-huh…" Paul muttered noncommittally. "Look, you're not breeding anything else are you? Nothing you can't breed with that Shroomish or the Ledyba?"

"Nothing much around here that _can _breed with Dusty. And he doesn't really… get along with other Pokemon too well." At the mention of its name, the oversized plant Pokemon teetered out of its hiding place in the bushes and promptly ran headlong into a tree. "And well, this Ledyba is far too young."

"So you've really got nothing else? At all?"

Annabelle hesitated. "Well… I do have a video conference call with a breeder from Cianwood tomorrow. I'm hoping to get a pair of Starly. They're not Johto native and with the monopoly on that market, I should be able to get a little more business. And I suppose a potential Staraptor would be much better for you than a Ledyba?"

Paul thought about it. While a generic starter bird wasn't quite the cream of the crop he would have picked for himself, the appeal of a Staraptor was hard to pass up. With high base attack and speed stats, and a far superior movepool to the standard bird, he knew it was likely the best option he had available.

"Alright, yeah. Starly would be good."

Annabelle nodded. "Drop by tomorrow then, sometime in the afternoon. I should have some news for you by then."

He left Annabelle in her garden with Dusty and the tiny Ledyba. As he mooched home, he had the strange inclination that he should feel guilty. Or at the very least, harbour some sort of pity to the hapless breeder in charge of the Little Stars. She was obviously down on her luck and perhaps a little naive. Possibly a bit too soft as well. But it was hard to feel sorry for her when he was constantly reminded that Dest was currently charging around Johto in search of flawless Pokemon while he was still firmly stuck in Cherrygrove.

He had to run over the past few hours in his mind to try and make some sense of it all. Did a licensed breeder really just try and pass off something as useless as a _Ledyba _as a starter Pokemon? Even as a Ledian it didn't hold that much weight. Its Special Defense was surprisingly high for a generic bug, but a crippled HP stat, complete lack of offensive power, and a movepool consisting mainly of support moves were an instant turn-off. He didn't know whether to laugh or shudder. Did people really waste their time training Pokemon like that?

.-.-.-.

The following morning, Paul found himself early for work. A rare occurrence, even he would admit. He decided to stop at the local coffee house for a pick-me-up before his shift started. The home-brand coffee on offer in their staff tearoom was simultaneously weak and overly bitter. Quite an achievement, really. But the cosy interior of the Beanscene offered a range of over thirty different coffees and hot drinks, each with more ridiculous names than the last. It was no contest.

He ordered his coffee from the long haired, bored looking barista and sat heavily down at one of the wooden tables. Mindlessly flicking through a local news app on his phone, he wondered what time would be best to visit Annabelle. She had said sometime in the afternoon, but he didn't finish until just after five in the evening. Hopefully he wouldn't be too late. And that she would have some promising news for him.

The barista sat a steamy mug of Espresso Macchiato on the table next to him - with an extra shot of espresso for luck - and he wasted a moment to cherish the heat of the mug and the tang of the rich caramel. He took a deep mouthful and wiped the foam from his lips.

The coffee house was quiet for the mid morning hour. A businessman in a wrinkled suit stared at the bottom of his latte mug, looking quite like he wanted to drown at the bottom of it. A young mother with a child in a pushchair absentmindedly spooned leftover cream into the kid's mouth. Two teenagers glued to their phones sat opposite each other, their mochas basically untouched. And someone was hunched over one of the computers at the back of the cafe.

Paul almost allowed his eyes to glaze over the figure, thinking it was just another hipster mindlessly blogging. Then he noticed the clothes. No self-respecting hipster would be seen in public wearing creased and muddy dungarees.

He drained the rest of his coffee, heaved himself up from the table and wandered over to the Wi-Fi access area. A quick glance confirmed his suspicions. It was indeed Annabelle, plugged into a set of pink Whismur headphones and staring intently at the screen, barely even blinking. He threw himself into the chair next to her - the swivel kind; was there anything more fun? - and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Yo. Annabelle."

"P-Paul?" she stammered, only casting him a sideways glance before returning her eyes to the screen. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a coffee place. I'm drinking coffee. Unlike you, who just seems to be sponging off the Wi-Fi."

"Yeah, fair enough. Look, I'm really kinda busy-"

"Hey, since I have you here, I was gonna visit after I finished work, but whatever. Have you gotten anything new in your breeders? Those Starly you were talking about?"

"I—"

"I mean, I don't want to rush you or anything but I just really need something that isn't as shit as, y'know, a Ledyba."

"Paul, I-"

"Admittedly Starly wouldn't be my first choice either, but it's got decent attack and speed and that's nothing to complain about."

"Listen, I'm really trying-"

"I really need that Starly, Annabelle. I can pay you. In advance, if you like. There's a lot of shit going on that a girl like you wouldn't really understand, so can we _please _move this on just as soon as humanly possible?"

"Oh for Arceus's sake, Paul!" Annabelle's voice grew shrill and exasperated and she leapt from her chair so quickly that she yanked the headphones from the computer. "A girl like me wouldn't understand? Understand _what _exactly?"

"Well, I've got this friend and there's this sort of competition-"

"No!" Annabelle cried. "Dammit, I've heard enough! I don't know what sort of sick competition you and your friend are conducting, but I want no part in it! And as for my Ledyba being shit, he is _not_! He's perfect just the way he is! And the way you're talking right now, I swear, even if I get those Starly, there is no way in hell you're getting one! Those Pokemon deserve a life of being loved for who they are! Not judged for what stats they have, what nature they may or may not have or any of that superficial bullshit! As far as I'm concerned, you're just not fit to train Pokemon in real life!"

The entire coffee shop had gone quiet - save the occasional hiss of the coffee machine - in the aftermath of Annabelle's eruption. Even Paul couldn't muster up any words that would stand up to the ferocity of hers. Then Annabelle's wide hazelnut eyes suddenly softened, as if she herself couldn't believe what she had just said.

And then a voice plunged through the silence.

"Not fit to train Pokemon?"

Annabelle swore. Paul craned his neck to look at the dusty screen of the ancient desktop and saw the blurry features of someone on a video call.

Annabelle started to tremble all over and she approached the screen. "Look, I… I didn't mean what I just said… I was angry and he-"

"Just… don't." It was a man on the other end of the call. Paul hazarded a guess at middle aged and someone of quite high status. His voice was stern. Perhaps a superior of some sort? "Annabelle, I'm surprised at you. This is a customer of yours?"

"N-not quite. He was showing interest in a few things, but nothing has been settled."

"Even still. For someone who is apparently so passionate about customer service, I'd never expect you to be so rude and disrespectful to anyone - much less a paying customer."

"No, please, you don't understand. This guy… this guy is obsessed with 'flawless' Pokemon!" She added finger gestures to illustrate her point, "I'm worried that if he gets anything less than perfect, he'll just… abandon them."

"You forget your place. Your breeding Pokemon are never yours, especially not when they go off to their new trainers. You're too sensitive, Annabelle. And you can't be sensitive in this field. Our job is to satisfy the customer's wants. And that's it."

"But—!"

"Consider our trade terminated. I'm sorry, but I just don't think you're the best person suited for this particular circulation."

"No…" Annabelle said softly. "No, please, let me prove it to you. I… I am… I am a good breeder!"

Annabelle looked like she was about to burst into tears. Paul was still aware of every pair of eyes in the coffeehouse staring at them.

"We'll have to let the Breeders Association decide that."

"W…what?"

"I'm sorry, Annabelle, but some of us have had concerns about you ever since you took over that breeders. And now this. I'm sorry, I'm going to have to report you."

"No… no, you can't!"

"I'm sorry, Annabelle. Someone will be in touch later."

And with that, the call ended and the screen went dark. Paul shifted from foot to foot, wondering if perhaps this was the opportune moment to slip away or if it had long since passed. Annabelle stared into the screen as if willing it to spontaneously burst back into life.

A long moment passed and Paul found himself saying the first thing that popped into his head.. "So… who was that?"

Annabelle let out a juddering sigh. "That…" her voice caught, and Paul couldn't predict if she was about to burst into tears or start yelling at him again. "That was Jason from the Flying Start Breeders in Cianwood. The man I was supposed to be getting the pair of Starly from."

"Ah." This wasn't looking good. "So… what happens now?"

"What do you mean 'what happens'?" she shrieked. "I'm not getting those Starly now! And even worse, he's going to report me to the Breeders Association!"

"Breeders Association? I'm assuming that's bad?"

"Of course it's bad! They could put a breeding embargo on me!"

"Embargo…? So… you can't use items?"

Annabelle blinked. "Are you for real?"

"Well, I don't know! You breeders have terms for everything!"

"It means, you idiot, that I'll have a ban on breeding for however many months! No breeding equals no income equals death for the breeder!"

Paul winced. "That… doesn't sound good."

"Of course it's not good!" She slammed her fists into the table, knocking over a glass and spilling some unidentifiable liquid everywhere. "D-dammit!" she let out a strangled gasp.

Paul glanced around the coffee shop, calculating how long it would take him to garble some sort of apology and make his escape without causing too much of a commotion. However, his feet kept him awkwardly rooted to the spot.

"L-look, I'm sorry…" Annabelle's voice was thick. "I guess I shouldn't be yelling at you…"

"Okay…"

"Actually, maybe I should!" she looked up at him, her face twisted with the effort not to cry. "This was your fault! If you hadn't come here and interrupted me, none of this would have happened!"

"Actually this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been such a bitch."

"Ugh!" She jumped to her feet, the whole table shaking perilously. "You're impossible!"

"I'm just saying!"

"You know what, just get the hell away from me, alright?!" Tears had finally spilled over her red cheeks and she scrubbed at them impatiently. "People like you are what makes me think I should never have started breeding in the first place!"

She was gone, the coffee shop door barely hanging on to its hinges, before Paul could protest.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hi again! Wow, I was so overwhelmed with how many of you guys read and reviewed the last chapter. So here's another one, a wee bit earlier than I actually planned to release it. I was just so motivated to write because of all you guys. **

**That being said, I don't know when the next chapter will be. Hopefully soon as I have a nice easy week of work and then a week off I should have time aplenty to devote to this and my other projects. **

**Pretty emotional chapter this one. Should start getting interesting within the next couple. **

**Anyway! Thanks again and I hope you enjoy **


	5. An Unlikely Duo

**Chapter Five  
An Unlikely Duo**

Paul didn't know what had brought him back to the butter yellow door of the Little Star Breeders. Something deep within him had compelled him to come back. Perhaps it was some deluded sense of responsibility, some sad remnant of a Christian upbringing that obliged him to return. Perhaps it was the byproduct of a day plagued with raging thoughts that would not be quelled no matter what he did. Or, just perhaps, it was the text that had reached his phone that afternoon: "Hey bro, guess who just got himself a bitchin' Pineco?"

It took Annabelle a good ten minutes to answer the door. When she did, it was obvious company was the last thing on her mind. Dressed in a pair of fluffy Delibird pyjamas, her face red and crusted with old tears, and her hair unkempt, she let out a groan of despair seeing the 'guest' on her doorstep.

"What do you want? Come to see what you've ruined?"

"What I've… ruined?"

"Yes. That... idiot from the Cianwood Breeders reported me to the Breeders Association. I've been banned from breeding for three months!"

"Oh…"

"Yeah. So I can't breed, can't get an income, can't do anything. It's not like I was exactly living the life of luxury before now, but I'll be lucky if I don't starve within the month!"

"Can't you… y'know, do anything about it?"

"Well gee, you know, that didn't occur to me!" she spat.

"You don't need to be so rude."

"Look who's talking."

Paul grimaced. He was beginning to regret whatever possessed him to turn up. Shifting from foot-to-foot, he search for something worthwhile to say. "I guess… Well… I'm sorry, I guess?" It came out more of a question than a statement and he cursed to himself when he saw Annabelle's eyes narrow slightly.

"Fat lot of good an apology does. It won't change anything."

"I know… But I am sorry. Is there really nothing you can do?"

Annabelle sighed and shifted her weight against the doorframe. "I guess I _could _appeal to the Breeder's Association and see if they could reverse the decision."

"That sounds promising. You should do that."

Annabelle scoffed. "You realise it's not that easy?"

He shrugged.

"We'd have to go all the way to Cianwood to make the appeal in person. And I'd have to bring evidence that the claim against me was unfounded. Which in this case would be very difficult as I was sanctioned over bad customer service. I'd have to prove that I was provoked into behaving the way I did by the customer - which is you."

A twist of dread gripped the bottom of Paul's stomach. "I don't like where this is going."

"Yeah, you guessed it. You'd be the one having to tell them that you'd… I don't know, goaded me into snapping. In front of the Breeders Association. And I don't suppose you'd be keen to do that, would you?"

Paul didn't want to answer. Instead he stammered and stuttered, trying to come up with a reasonable sounding excuse until Annabelle hung her head. "Yeah, I didn't think so…"

He wanted to apologise again but found the words stuck in his throat.

Annabelle glanced inside and then up at the darkening sky. "Look, why don't you come in for a bit? It's late and it's cold."

Paul hoped the surprise didn't betray his face. Just yesterday she had been screaming and swearing at him and saying she never wanted to see him again, and now she was inviting him back into her home?

"Uh…" he took a step backwards, hoping she'd get the hint. "I don't know…"

"Come on. You owe me that much."

Damn that Christian sense of duty. Paul cursed both it and himself as Annabelle led him inside to her cluttered living room. The place was even messier than normal, littered with plates of half eaten food scraps. Annabelle swept them up and balanced them expertly, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Glancing around and trying to formulate some sort of excuse to leave, Paul took a seat against a plump yellow cushion that clashed horribly with the patchwork blue sofa. After the cushion yelped and screeched in indignation, he realised it was actually Annabelle's dopey Shroomish. Dusty growled at him - were plants supposed to growl? - and Paul retreated to the safety of the sunken armchair in the corner.

The minutes ticked by, agonisingly slowly. The silence was disturbed only by the occasional clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen. Paul dreaded to think what sort of chaos Annabelle was unleashing. The Shroomish bundled up on the sofa glared at Paul on occasion and Paul glared back.

She eventually returned with big mugs of hot chocolate. She plucked Dusty from the sofa and sat him on her lap. He made a strange, contented purring noise and went back to sleep, albeit still frowning. An awkward silence descended as both of them sipped from their mugs.

"I… I haven't had hot chocolate since I was a little boy." Paul said lamely, once the silence grew too much.

"It's all I had in." Annabelle looked strangely embarrassed. "No tea, no coffee. And you can't drink cold drinks this late. It just doesn't feel right.

Paul took another mouthful. Annabelle's offering was deliciously sweet, warming him from the stomach right through to the rest of his body. He detected the subtle, yet unmistakable, taste of cinnamon. It had a richness to it far superior to the powdered stuff his mother had occasionally made for him. He felt the warmth slowly spread through his fingers. Annabelle's living room was unusually cold; yet she sat there in bare feet and thin pyjamas like the frigid conditions meant nothing to her.

He caught her eye by accident. She swallowed, leaving a ring of foam around her mouth that Paul didn't want to point out. "I suppose we're at something of an impasse, aren't we?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she paused, taking another sip. "If I want any chance at, y'know, _surviving, _I need to get to Cianwood, and appeal the decision. And _you _have a baby Riolu to pick up all the way over in Blackthorn but you've no Pokemon to get you there."

"Don't remind me."

"You can't catch a Pokemon without having one, right? And you'd never make it to the next town on your own. I, on the other hand, have two Pokemon with me and I'm not too shabby at battling them. _And _I'm still in the position to give you your starting Pokemon."

"What?"

"The Ledyba I bred still doesn't have an owner. Not officially, anyway."

"Are you saying you're going to give me that Ledyba?"

Annabelle drew herself up to her full height and fixed Paul with a stern look. "I spent all night thinking about this on the off-chance you would come back. It's not a decision I made easily, and to be honest, I'm still not even sure I'm making the right choice."

"So you want to give me that Ledyba?"

"Under some strict conditions!" Annabelle stared him down. "One!" she held up an index finger. "I will be following you and making absolute sure you're taking proper care of him for as long as I deem necessary. And two," another finger went up. "You will accompany me to Cianwood and stand up for me at the Breeders' Association to make sure I get my license back.."

Paul had to fight back a laugh. "Dude, I'm not sure a _Ledyba _is even worth all that."

Annabelle chuckled; a confident, seemingly triumphant snort. "Well, with all due respect, do you have any other choice?"

Paul felt the smile slip from his face. She was right. Save some sort of miracle, there was no way he could realistically get a Pokemon without help. Not even appealing to the few people he knew that were serious enough about Pokemon training would work. It had crossed his mind to try sweet-talking one of them into catching him a Pokemon, but he had been so vocal about his opinion on the "waste of time" training was that he doubted anyone would be willing to entertain him now. That, and Pokeballs weren't cheap. And the puny offerings around Cherrygrove were just as hopeless as anything Annabelle could give him.

The admission felt like poison on his lips "No… I guess I don't."

A hint of a smile pulled at Annabelle's lips but it lasted only seconds before she became brisk and official. "The way I see it, it can take about a month to get to Cianwood if we're going on foot. From there, another week, week and a half, to get to Blackthorn. Gives you plenty of time to clear my name and hopefully teach you something as well." she clenched her fists when Paul hesitated. "Come on! We can do this!"

She looked strangely determined, her little face screwed up in concentration. It was an interesting contrast to her wild hair and childish Delibird pyjamas.

"I suppose?"

"So, that means you're in?"

"...do I have a choice?"

"Nope!" she countered, an easy, beaming grin bursting onto her face. "So, we should leave as soon as possible! Why don't we say… eight o'clock tomorrow?"

"...in the morning?"

"Yes, in the morning!" she giggled. "We've got quite a way to travel to the first town, plus I've got to get the Ledyba all adjusted for you. Just remember to bring your trainer license and ID tomorrow, okay?"

"Whoa, whoa…" he waved his hands at her. "Dude, my trainer license hasn't turned up yet. Unfortunately. It might not get here for a couple more days at least. And I still have to sort out what's going on with my job, and then I've gotta pack…"

It was only as he was saying this that he realised the amount of preparation a venture like this was going to take. In the games, everything was so simple. You turned up, got a Pokemon, dumped all your stuff in a bottomless bag and disappeared off into the sunset without so much as a second thought for any ties to your previous life. Paul thought of telling the managers at his work he was going to be leaving for a while and shuddered.

"Not so simple in real life, is it?"

Paul couldn't tell if Annabelle was mocking him or simply teasing. He grit his teeth. "I guess not."

"Well, I can't legally sign the Ledyba over to you unless you have your trainer's license with you. So leaving will have to wait until it arrives."

Paul slid forward on the armchair as if he was getting ready to leave. Yet Annabelle continued on blithely.

"Of course it'll be interesting to experience life on the road again. It's been a long time since I travelled, you know? Sometimes you can find travelling breeders too. I don't know exactly how they're governed but I think they have different rules on what they can catch and carry. Of course breeding on the road has its own problems…"

"Uh-huh." Paul couldn't even feign an interest in her ramblings. "Look, maybe I should just go."

"Oh." Annabelle stopped mid-sentence and a slight tinge reddened her cheeks. "Yeah, I guess that would make sense. It is getting really late."

She walked him to the door despite his insistence he could show himself out. As she shut and locked the door behind him, he let out a sigh that misted in the cold evening air. He had stayed too long.

The stars were emerging in the night sky, metallic and distant. Paul's footsteps were heavy along the empty roads. As he neared home, his phone buzzed with another text from Dest.

"_So how's progress on your end, man?"_

He turned his phone off and trudged up to his bedroom. He felt a vague need to eat but didn't know what food would fill the empty hole in his belly, or even if food would accomplish this. He plucked a mug from the greasy stack of dishes in the sink and filled it with water. He drained it in three mouthfuls, dragged the loose drips from his mouth with the back of his hand and threw the mug back.

For once, he had no inclination to game. Even the look of his Nintendo DS sitting innocently atop his pillow made his stomach hot with nausea. He lay atop his bed, fully clothed. Shutting his eyes against the light, he let his mind wander and tried not to think of life beyond the next morning.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hi guys. This is a relatively short chapter, unfortunately, but my transition chapters often are. **

**Anyway, updates might be a wee bit slower than normal now as I'm writing every chapter from now completely from scratch. The last couple of chapters I updated were partway done, even if it was just a couple of paragraphs, so that's kinda how I was able to get these out so fast.**

** On the plus side, starting on Sunday I have a week off work so I should be able to dedicate plenty of time for this during that. **

**Also, I'm in the need for some inspiration so if anyone knows any really good Pokemon fanfictions that are out there, please don't hesitate to get in touch by PM or review to let me know. (I'm doing a little fanfic recommendation section on my profile too)**

**Anyway, enough of my chatter. See you on the next one. **


	6. Debut

**Chapter Six  
****Debut**

Paul's trainer license arrived in the mail two days after leaving Annabelle's house. He shook the tiny card from the padded envelope and held it up to the light to take a closer look. It wasn't a flattering photo of him. He had never been what most would say 'conventionally attractive.' He conceded he was not ugly, not by a good margin, but where his sisters had snagged both their mother's good looks and father's brains, he had been left treading in the shallows of the gene pool. The photograph seemed to highlight his heavy set jaw, widened forehead and thin lips. Not his good side. A strange, shallow urge to replace the photograph with something a little more appealing fought its way to the front of his mind.

Then he remembered it was only a temporary source of ID and crammed it into his wallet, tucked away behind some ancient receipts and his driver's license that was dangerously close to expiring.

He had made up an excuse to his work, of course. 'Going off on a Pokemon journey' was not under the list of acceptable reasons to just not turn up indefinitely. Mumbling something about a death in the family and needing time to sort everything out netted him a straight week of bereavement leave. Adding on the annual leave he had accumulated left him safe for about a month, give or take. As he left the supermarket without so much as a goodbye to any of his colleagues, he prayed for a quick resolution. For more than one reason.

He travelled as light as possible, cramming what little possessions and clothes he could into a worn backpack. Yet even by the time he reached Annabelle's house, he was panting and sweating and a thin film of sweat pricked at his hairline.

The knock on Annabelle's door was so light and hesitant he found himself doubting it had even been audible. However, the door _still_ sprang open only seconds later and an exuberant Annabelle beamed down at him. Dusty, her Shroomish, sat balanced on her head like a precarious, grumpy top hat.

"Oh! You're here!" she cried. "What kept you?"

"Trainer license took forever to turn up."

"Ah, I see." She barely paused for breath before she grabbed him by the arm and, with more strength than expected for a woman her size, dragged him into the living room. "I've been ready pretty much ever since you left the other day. There was so much to do. We've got a really long trip ahead of us, you know? I hope you've brought enough; that doesn't look like a big enough bag for things."

She talked incessantly fast, many of her words crashing together and becoming unintelligible. Paul let her speak, allowed her to fire instructions and concerns at him like bullets, until she eventually grew suspicious. "Paul, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

"Of course."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't pursue it. "Well, it doesn't matter. The quicker we get on the road, the better. We've got a lot of ground to cover before nightfall."

"How much ground?"

"Well… We're heading for Violet City first. You do know where that is, right?"

"Course." Paul said, feeling his heart sink a little. It took a good hour or so, even by car or bus to get to Violet City. He hesitated before asking "We are… _walking, _I presume?"

Annabelle's brows furrowed until they practically met in the middle. "What the hell else would we be doing?"

"That's like 20 miles!" His protest came out as more of a whine, and he instantly regretted it.

Annabelle swung an overstuffed backpack onto her shoulders. "Well, I guess we better get moving then, hadn't we?" she said, not skipping a beat.

Paul allowed himself to groan.

"Before we go, though," she paused, rummaging around another smaller bag she had left on the sofa. "There is something I have to give you."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Your _Pokemon, _you dumbass."

From the bag she pulled out a single, minimised Pokeball and Paul felt a strange emotion he couldn't quite describe twist in the bottom of his stomach. It was one part disbelief and one part dread, and it gripped his insides so strongly he was suddenly afraid he was going to throw up. That was his Pokemon in that Pokeball. Not a pile of animated pixels on a tiny screen. A real, living and breathing creature contained within the walls of the capsule. For a moment, the emotion even surpassed the knowledge that it was tiny and frail, and most importantly, a Ledyba. It would be doomed from the start. There was no way such a feeble thing could ever achieve any sort of greatness.

Annabelle had her hand outstretched and waiting expectantly, and it took Paul a moment to realise he had zoned out of yet another one of her long-winded talks. "Huh?"

"I need to see your _trainer's license. _Jeez, does anything go on in that big empty head of yours?"

Paul grumbled, fished about for his license and held it up, his fingers obscuring the photograph. Annabelle made to take it but he held it out of her reach.

"Look with your eyes, not with your hands."

"Shut the hell up. I need to see the whole thing so I can make sure it's _valid. _It's the law." she snipped and snatched it clean from his fingers.

She glanced at it for only a few seconds with the same seasoned nonchalance Paul used when checking ID at work. Where he expected some sort of comment or joke at the photograph there was none, just a swift nod as she handed it back.

"Well, it's all completely in order. I guess all I can do is give you your Pokemon."

She held out the Pokeball and Paul took it, finding it surprisingly heavier than the tiny capsule would have led him to believe. He rolled the ball over in his palm, unsure of what to do with it. Annabelle watched him with raised eyebrows.

"You do know what you're doing with those things, right?"

Paul said nothing.

"Don't you?" she pressed.

"Of course I do. I'm not an idiot. It's just...been a while."

Paul could count on one hand the amount of times he had held a Pokeball. When he was sixteen and still in high school, a blind classmate of his had a seeing-eye Growlithe and thought himself better than anyone else there. He and a few other classmates had aimed to 'take him down a peg' by kidnapping the Growlithe and leaving the blind classmate helpless for a few hours to teach him a lesson. Paul had been in charge of 'acquiring' the capsule that swung from the blind boy's unguarded belt. He couldn't remember exactly what transpired but a faded scar in the shape of a sharpened incisor and a vague memory of a month's detention was all he needed to know.

The second time was during university. The girl who lived next door to him, whom Paul had admired greatly, had been a Pokemon trainer in her youth. Apparently quite a decent one too. She had had little patience for people who didn't approve of the bizarre menagerie of Pokemon she kept, which ranged from a Seviper that left a fully formed casing of its own shed skin lying in the kitchen every week, to a Combusken that crooned and crowed like a feathered alarm clock on the dot of six every morning. Her time in the shared flat had been short-lived - after a series of complaints made against her - but Paul had spent many a futile evening trying to get to know the girl; which mainly involved him listening to hours' worth of stories from her time as a trainer. She had allowed him to hold her pride and joy - a premier ball containing an irascible Kingdra - and Paul had finally called time on his attraction to her when he ended up covered head-to-toe in ink when he accidentally released the horned beast.

Paul's fingers sought the release mechanism. Was it a push of the button? A tap? He revolved the ball around in his hands again and pretended to be fascinated with it.

"It's this button here,"

"I know!" He yanked the Pokeball away from Annabelle's prying fingers and stowed it deep within his pockets. "I know how it works."

"Don't you wanna open it and see your Pokemon?"

"I don't need to. I already know it's a Ledyba. Unless you've hidden something way better in here by way of surprise."

Annabelle sucked her teeth. "No. Just the Ledyba. Which I'm trusting you to take good care of. Train it properly, feed it properly, talk to it, give it plenty of cuddles… you know, it's a real thing. Not a pile of pixels."

"Spare me the sermon. I thought you wanted to get moving?"

She was visibly trying to restrain herself. Paul could see it yet he made no attempt to stop. Annabelle sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I suppose you're right. One thing, though. Are you going to nickname the Ledyba?"

"Nickname?" It was a thought that hadn't even occurred to Paul. Nicknaming implied sentimentality. Some kind of bond, respect even. He had never remembered nicknaming a Pokemon in the many games he had owned, save for the rules imposed on Nuzlocke runs. He shook his head.

"Well, why not?" Annabelle looked personally insulted.

"Takes too much effort." was the least offensive answer he could think of.

"I suppose not everyone nicknames their Pokemon…" Annabelle relented. "It's just down to personal choice."

"Yeah, sure." Paul muttered noncommittally. "Are we going or not?"

"Why? You in a hurry?"

"No. But you seemed to be."

She opened her mouth as if to say something, then snapped it shut, muttering something like "You wouldn't understand". She took one last look around the house before meeting Paul's eye and holding his gaze. "Let's go, then."

Annabelle was surprisingly matter-of-fact about locking up and leaving the tiny house. She plastered a hastily written sign over the front door saying "CLOSED" with a contact number over the front door and bounced down the steps as if nothing was happening. Perhaps she travelled often. She supported the giant bag on her shoulders and walked with a spring in her step under the warmth of the sun.

"We'll stop once it gets to midday. It'll be too hot to walk too far then, so we can stop, have lunch or whatever. Sound okay with you?"

Paul shrugged. Annabelle sighed and readjusted the backpack. "Fine." she muttered, and without another word, headed off down the path back to town.

As they cleared the busiest part of town, Paul cast a longing glance at the bus terminal fast disappearing from their sight. Why did they have to walk, anyway? Surely if Annabelle was so concerned about time and accomplishing things quickly, it would have made more sense to take public transport? He wanted to voice this concern to her, but she was marching some ways ahead of him, the heel of her boots stomping against the pavement.

By the time they pulled away from the main part of the city and the streets effortlessly melted into grassy hedges and trees, Paul was exhausted. He wiped his forehead, glazed with sweat, as he pretended to study the weathered old sign saying ROUTE 30. It was stamped on in capital letters, like it was shouting at whoever went by.

"It's the same basic sign they have at every route." Annabelle said, peeking over his shoulder.

"I know."

"So let's keep going."

He trudged after her. By the time they had walked another ten minutes, Paul forced himself to come to an admission. He was unfit. He was hopelessly unfit. Sure, he walked to work every day but that was five, maybe ten minutes at most. And certainly not carrying two weeks' worth of clothes and supplies on his back. Sticky and sweaty, he prayed for a breeze to waft in; no such luck.

Annabelle was unbothered by the issues plaguing Paul. She strolled along at an easy pace, keeping her head up and eyes alert to her surroundings. She seemed fascinated by every tree, plant and bush they passed and often Paul heard her remark something to herself that he couldn't quite catch. He was glad, at least, that she knew where she was going. There was so much green, the varying hues all blending together into some indistinguishable mess, that he was quite overwhelmed by it all.

He had vague memories of Route 30 from the games. He remembered an unremarkable route frequently marred with annoying hedges and equally unremarkable Pokemon. Standard bugs, birds, the occasional Bellsprout here and there, and a family of Poliwag in one of the tiny ponds. Nothing worth catching. In fact, as he and Annabelle continued on, he didn't notice any hint at the presence of _any _Pokemon whatsoever. No clichéd rustle of the bushes. No Pokemon frolicking at the water's edge. Not even the cry of a solitary bird Pokemon flying overhead. All was still and silent apart from the whisper of a light breeze through the leaves.

The route was deviating uphill now. A gentle incline that had once held promise of easing into a steady plateau had suddenly heightened and become punishing. Paul trudged along angrily, feeling the weight of his heavy straps cut deeply into his shoulders. He was grateful when Annabelle threw her bag down and announced they'd be stopping for lunch.

She had packed a lunch for them. Tiny sandwiches cut into triangles, more of her homemade lemonade and various crisps and snacks. Paul ate and drank greedily under the protective shade of an elderly tree.

"Don't get too used to this," she cautioned him as he helped himself to his fifth sandwich. "We need to be careful with our supplies once we're out into the proper wilderness." She paused, watching him lick a dab of mayonnaise from his lips. "Is it good?"

"It's food. Of course it's good."

"…right." She drew her knees up to her chin and let out an audible sigh. "Hey, you mind if I let Dusty and my other Pokemon out to feed them?"

Paul's attention left the wads of bacon and lettuce crammed into the sandwich he was trying to resist. "What? Other Pokemon? You have other Pokemon?"

"One other Pokemon. And yes. I told you this. Weren't you listening?" She didn't wait for an answer; busied herself by retrieving two Pokeballs from the front pocket of her heavy backpack. From one came the familiar grumpy face of Dusty the Shroomish and from the other, a tiny ball of reddish-orange feathers.

Paul recognised it instantly. "Wow. Is that a Fletchling?"

The tiny bird Pokemon hopped from foot to foot and pecked at nothing in the grass. Annabelle lay down some pellets for both her companions. "Yep. This is Abigail."

"Abigail, huh?" Paul watched the Fletchling chirp and aim a wayward peck at Dusty when the oversized plant attempted to poach on the remainder of her pellets. "I suppose that makes sense. A Fletchling for a breeder, after all."

Annabelle looked at him as if to say she didn't understand at all, but didn't say anything until her Pokemon finished eating. Paul took it upon himself to protect the last of the sandwiches from a greedy Dusty. The oversized plant glowered at him and buried itself into Annabelle's lap.

"You know, that Ledyba of yours will be pretty hungry, you know?"

Paul had wondered how long it was going to take for this to come up again. The words hung heavy in the air for a moment before he swept them away with "Didn't you feed it before you left?"

"He's not an 'it', Paul." Annabelle's voice was surprisingly gentle. Resigned. Paul almost would have preferred for her to shout. "And of course I fed him. But Pokemon need to be fed more than once a day."

Paul said nothing.

"You're going to have to open that Pokeball sooner or later. You can't put it off forever." Annabelle pushed herself to her feet, saying she was going to take a short walk to get her bearings.

It took Paul a few minutes to register the fact that she had left him with her Pokemon. Abigail the Fletchling was pecking at the frayed edges of the blanket Annabelle had set down, and Dusty was still doing his best imitation of a grumpy old man. But at least neither of them were causing trouble. Paul leant back against the tree and let out a long exhale. His body ached for rest. Pleasantly full and cooled down, he felt his eyes slowly begin to close of their own accord.

_Thud. _

He groaned, not wanting to open his eyes.

_Thud._

_Thud. _

What even was that? Surely Annabelle wasn't back already?

_Thud. _

He couldn't ignore it any longer. He opened his eyes just in time to see Dusty slam his oversized head directly into the trunk of a nearby tree. Paul blinked, several times, to make sure he wasn't just vividly hallucinating.

_Thud. _

He headbutted it again. Then again. Paul watched the Pokemon's antics, half bemused, half concerned. Was that normal behaviour? Surely that was indicative of some sort of problem. Perhaps a short attention span. Or sociopathy. Paul shook the thoughts from his mind as the Shroomish screwed his face up and continued to slam himself into the tree.

"Hey." Paul said as the whole tree shook with the force, leaves drifting down to the ground. "Hey, stop that."

The Shroomish paused briefly to fix Paul with such an intense glare that it left him oddly intimidated. What the hell is it doing? Taking no heed of Paul, Dusty continued attacking the tree. Paul frowned. Stupid disobedient Pokemon.

"I'm not gonna tell you again. Quit that." He said, this time much louder.

_Thud. _

As if purely from spite, the Shroomish seemed to put all his remaining strength and defiance into one last headbutt of the giant tree. There was a surprising amount of force behind this one and somewhere high up in the branches, Paul heard something dislodge itself. It crashed to the ground a few feet away and Paul caught sight of a flash of black and yellow before the _thing _started vibrating and buzzing angrily.

He tried to back away but his shoulders slammed against the bark of the tree and he could go no further. He felt his mouth dry and the strength evaporate from his legs.

_"__You're not supposed to find Beedrill on Route 30…_"

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hi guys. Me again. **

**I've not got too much to say on this chapter. It was pretty difficult to write this one. Inception chapters always are. **

**Don't worry, I've got plenty planned so I shouldn't be running out of ideas/motivation anytime soon. **

**Thanks as always to everyone who's read and reviewed thus far. You guys absolutely make my day with your kind words and comments. **

**I'm hoping to get the next chapter updated as soon as possible. I've started beta-reading for The Neverending Meep's new fic which is a Pokemon GO concept infused with aspects of Sword Art Online. So I'm super excited for that too. **

**Enough of my rambling. See you all on the next one. **


	7. To Bee or Not to Bee

**Chapter Seven  
To Bee or Not to Bee**

The disoriented bug shook itself, the sound of vicious, unyielding vibrations cutting through the peaceful afternoon air. At Paul's feet, Dusty the Shroomish squeaked in fright and burrowed itself into the safety of a nearby bush. Paul froze, kept as still as possible, trying to quell his haggard breathing.

He had never seen a Beedrill in person before. It was hard to be intimidated by a bunch of messy pixels on a screen on the rare occasion he had allowed one to grace whatever game he was playing. But now, with one only a few feet away from him, he was beginning to have second thoughts. The image of its bright, mustard-yellow and coal black danger stripes had burned itself into his brain. The pair of stingers were poised at the front of its segmented body and Paul could only imagine the pain such appendages could unleash.

"Annabelle…" He hissed. "Annabelle!"

Nothing.

"Shit." He cursed. He wanted to run, but knew the sudden movement would only make the bug angrier. His hands started to shake. "Dammit…"

Then he spied Annabelle's Fletchling still perched on a branch of a nearby tree. It was a longshot but it was his only choice.

"Fletchling! Use… Peck! On that Beedrill!"

Even as he uttered the command, the words sounded wrong. Like an untrained tongue trying to coil itself around the unfamiliar nuances of a new language. The command sounded clumsy, ineffective, and the Fletchling only returned him a confused stare.

"Typical…" he muttered. He should have known. Pokemon didn't make a habit of obeying trainers that weren't their own. But the only Pokemon he had was…

His hand slipped slowly down the pocket until his clammy fingers met the cool metal of the Pokeball. He fished it out, hardly daring to breathe. He clung onto some vague some hope that maybe the Beedrill would fly off or Annabelle would come back in time.

But the Beedrill had risen on its wings again. Its beady eyes narrowed and with a movement almost undetectable on Paul's vision, it struck.

Paul threw his arms up to protect himself from the blow. He felt the stingers tear at his arms, ripping open the bare flesh. It was a pain he had never felt the equivalent of. Thin, white-hot, and searing the flesh long after the impact ended. Something warm and wet dripped down his forearms and his grip loosened on the Pokeball. It slipped from his fingers, fell uselessly to the ground…

…and cracked open.

"Leeeeeey!"

Paul opened his eyes. The Ledyba stood a short distance away, blinking and letting out a deep yawn. The Beedrill darted back, startled by the sound of the opening capsule.

What moves did Ledyba know? Annabelle never did tell him what level the tiny thing had achieved. "Ledyba! Comet Punch!"

But the Ledyba only returned Paul a quizzical stare.

No physical moves of that calibre, it seemed. Maybe a status move?

"Try Supersonic!"

The Ledyba remained still. Paul felt his stomach churn unpleasantly. Not even a status move? But those attacks were learned at such low levels? Surely it wasn't that weak?

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Paul wanted to run but his legs were rooted to the spot, like someone had nailed his feet to the ground. "Ledyba… Tackle?"

"Baah?"

Nothing. No response. The worthless Pokemon didn't have a single attack. Not even the most basic of moves that a Magikarp could handle. And now he was stuck between a Pokemon that couldn't even defend itself, let alone attack, and a murderous Beedrill that looked intent on spilling even more of his blood.

The Beedrill moved. So quickly that Paul couldn't react, with no hope of shouting another desperate command to the Ledyba at his feet. He couldn't help but feel pathetic. Taken out by something as mundane as a Beedrill? He closed his eyes and waited for it.

"Abigail! Peck!"

He felt the rush of wind lift his sticky hair from his forehead. With a screech and a ruffle of feathers, the Fletchling dove from its branch in the tree and bodily slammed itself into the Beedrill. Both Pokemon were brought to the ground in an alarm of buzzing and squawking. Paul saw Annabelle standing a few feet away. She looked out of breath, but her face was the image of calm and fortitude.

"Drive it off with Quick Attack, Abigail!"

It was over. Just like that, with only two attacks, Annabelle had won. The Fletchling struck the Beedrill again right in the centre of its abdomen, sending it barrelling backwards. Abigail cawed triumphantly as the Beedrill, now barely able to stay airborne, crashed into the undergrowth and disappeared. Paul let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. Dusty poked his head out from underneath the bushes.

"Shrooom?"

Annabelle rushed over, Abigail balancing on her shoulders. "Are you guys alright?"

Now that they were out of danger, Paul felt a rush of anger and humiliation. He glanced at the Ledyba which was poking at the lace of his shoes and felt the rage shoulder its way in.

"We're fine. No thanks to this stupid thing here…" Paul aimed a kick at the Ledyba.

He felt pain. Found himself flat on his back on the ground, a sizeable welt forming on his right cheek. Annabelle stood over him, her eyes blazing. "What the hell was that for?" he cried, tasting blood.

"Don't you ever, _ever _try and kick a Pokemon again!" Annabelle hissed, her words dripping with venom. "I swear to Arceus, you try something like that again and I'll do more damage to you than an entire swarm of Beedrill could even _hope _to!"

Paul staggered to his feet. "Well if you had given me a Pokemon that actually had, you know, a single move, that _might_ have been helpful! The stupid thing doesn't even know something as easy as Tackle!"

"You absolute moron!" Annabelle retorted. "This isn't like your precious games! Pokemon just don't spontaneously learn attacks! You can't not know something and then suddenly know how to do it five seconds later! It takes time for Pokemon to develop their attacks!"

"Well, that's just perfect, isn't it?! Useless Pokemon, useless stats! Probably from a useless _breeder _as well!"

Annabelle was trembling all over. "In case you didn't notice, you ungrateful little shit, I was the one who fought off that Beedrill! I'm the one who knows how to control a Pokemon! And if you would take ten minutes to sit down with that Ledyba and maybe make some sort of a bond with him, he might actually surprise you!"

"I didn't sign up for this! No-one told me that Pokemon needed to be pampered and indulged and wrapped up in cotton wool! What other secrets have you kept from me about this?"

"You wanna know a secret? Huh? You wanna know a secret? Here's a secret for you, wise ass. _You _are the most selfish, ungrateful, arrogant bastard I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!" she grabbed the Ledyba that was nosing around in a patch of earth. "I can't even stand to be around you right now!"

She was gone within moments. Dusty and Abigail followed their trainer, leaving Paul standing in the aftermath of his mistake.

.-.-.

Paul didn't know how long to let her stew for. When his sisters and mother had bad days, they would take to their beds for hours on end and refuse to interact with anyone or anything. Paul remembered one infamous time when he collected an impressive five failing grades at an end of year report and his mother went to bed for a week.

He wasted half an hour by delving through Annabelle's supplies and clumsily bandaging his injured arm. The bandages were slack and the wound reopened every time he moved too quickly but at least it was somewhat protected.

Annabelle still hadn't returned nearly an hour later. He reasoned he couldn't stay, hanging around like a sitting target, for much longer. Perhaps he had been lucky and Annabelle had gotten herself eaten by a Tyranitar or something. The thought amused him until he remembered that Tyranitar were rarely found in the wild, much less on the outskirts of Cherrygrove. He reluctantly shouldered his and Annabelle's bags and started to wander in the vague direction she had gone.

It didn't take him long to find her. She was sat at the water's edge of a tiny pond tucked about ten minutes away. Her feet were dipped into the ripples and Dusty was curled up in her lap. Abigail and the Ledyba were asleep by her side. As Paul approached, he could hear her snuffling.

He paused, uncertain of what he could say to get her attention. But, noticing the crunch of leaves underfoot, Annabelle sniffed one last time, drew her hand across her face and stiffened her stance.

"What?"

"I just came… to see where you'd gotten to." He finished lamely.

"I see."

"I noticed…you're upset…"

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not upset because of you."

"Then why?"

"The poor Ledyba." Her voice caught and she scrubbed at her face again. "What kind of life will he have with a trainer who'll kick him for absolutely no reason?"

Paul felt a skelf of shame pierce his insides. Yet he found he couldn't say anything – not to defend, nor to justify what he did.

"I can't stand people who abuse Pokemon." Annabelle continued. "Sure, I knew getting you to warm up to something so 'pathetic' wouldn't be an easy job, but I didn't think it would turn into _this. _I'm really… disappointed in you."

Paul's shame burned.

"And I don't know what to do…" she squeezed Dusty a little too tightly and the Pokemon uttered a noise that sounded like an irate honk. "I have to get my breeder's license back and I need you for that, but… I can't in good conscience let you keep this Pokemon if I think you're going to abuse him."

"What if I promise never to do it again?"

"Then you're lying." Annabelle buried her face into Dusty. "There's _always_ a next time…"

"…then I'm sorry."

His apology surprised both him and Annabelle, who twitched and tightened her grip on Dusty again. "It's not me you should be apologising to."

Paul looked at the sleeping Ledyba. He knelt down by Annabelle, trying to ignore Dusty's steely glare. He couldn't quite bring himself to touch it.

"You know I didn't actually kick it. Right?"

"Doesn't matter. You still meant to."

Paul wanted to argue but found that he couldn't. Annabelle had gone quiet. She kept staring at him, and Paul half-expected her harsh words to start up again. How the hell could you treat a Pokemon like that? Why should I even let you near the Ledyba again? How do you intend to make this up to him? Paul waited, but Annabelle only watched him with a heavy, expectant glare.

The Ledyba seemed much smaller now. Paul could probably have easily fit most of it in just one of his hands. He could feel Annabelle's eyes boring into him. Pick him up, she willed. Go on, just pick him up.

His hands eventually closed around the Ledyba's body and he pulled it haphazardly against his chest. The Pokemon woke, and frightened, began flitting its tiny wings as if trying to escape his clutches. From instinct, Paul gripped tighter and the Pokemon began squeaking and thrashing around.

"Not so tight! Not so tight!" Annabelle cried.

"Okay, okay, don't fuss!" Paul said, still struggling to maintain a grip on the Ledyba.

"Talk to him. Try and calm him down."

"Does it even understand me though?"

"Oh don't be so ridiculous. Of course he does! Try and calm him down. Like how you would soothe a child."

Paul knew Annabelle's advice had been well-intended but it was just as useless as the suggestion to calm it down. Paul had never been one for young children. Too noisy and messy and… _sticky_ for his liking. He only ever tolerated the kids he hung about with because they respected his accomplishments and were easy fodder in card games. And as for babies, he had held a baby a grand total of once – the first of a cousin's rapidly expanding brood – and all it had done was cry, sleep and shit. Paul suspected possibly even at the same time.

"This is ridiculous…" he muttered, under his breath. "Look, calm down, okay?" he directed the instruction at the surroundings rather than the wriggling Pokemon in his lap. "Easy. I'm not gonna hurt you."

He felt the Pokemon still under his hands. Was it actually working? "It's alright." He repeated. "I won't hurt you. Promise."

His voice lacked the warmth he knew good breeders had perfected and poised over years of training. Or perhaps he just didn't have that natural affinity for comfort. Yet the Ledyba had calmed in his arms and even Annabelle was looking at him with different eyes.

"Not bad." She finally said.

"No-one's as surprised as me," he admitted, holding the Ledyba out at arm's length. The Pokemon looked at him with a wide innocent stare. "Uhh… how do I put it back in the Pokeball?"

"Le!" The Pokemon protested.

"What?"

"Le! Le! Le!"

"What the hell does it want?!" Paul hissed at Annabelle.

"Well considering he's been stuck inside a Pokeball for a day and hasn't eaten or had any exercise all that time, your guess is as good as mine."

Paul grumbled to himself. "How do I feed it?"

"There's food pellets in the front pouch of my bag."

Paul half-expected and anticipated the Ledyba to take off the second he put it down to retrieve the food from Annabelle's bag. But it stayed where Paul set it down, wings flitting occasionally and eyes unblinking.

He put the food pellets down and the Ledyba fell upon them. They were gone within seconds.

"Is that normal?"

"He's a baby. Babies eat a lot."

The Ledyba made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a large belch. A snort of laughter escaped Paul and he surprised himself by the strength of his amusement.

"Yeah, they do that too. Be glad it's not the other end."

It was the first time Annabelle had laughed in quite some time. Paul was strangely glad of it.

"With any luck, the food will tire him out, and he'll just go to sleep." Annabelle's voice was grand, the easy authority of a knowledge Paul did not possess. "…he doesn't seem to have been adversely affected by what you did. Luckily for you."

"Meaning?" Paul asked, as the Ledyba clambered onto his knees.

"Meaning, Pokemon are just like people. They have feelings and make memories just like you and I do. I don't know, maybe the little one is still too small to properly understand, but I'm just glad he seems okay. Pokemon who get beaten up or abused can sometimes be irreparably damaged by it. They're no different from people in that respect."

The Ledyba was pawing at the denim of Paul's jeans. He put his hand on the Ledyba's head and stroked it clumsily.

"And if I didn't know better, I'd say he even liked you." Annabelle chuckled. "Which, let's face it, is more than you deserve."

"It is."

There was no hesitation behind the words. Paul sat quietly in the aftermath of them, feeling the gentle rise and fall of the Ledyba's chest. It was strangely hypnotic, the sound of the Pokemon's gentle breathing merging with the breath of the wind.

"So, what's the verdict then?"

"Huh?" Paul snapped back into the present, wondering if there had been some conversation that he had missed.

"That Ledyba. Being a trainer that isn't a gigantic asshat. Reckon you could give it a shot?" Annabelle's voice sounded cautious and hopeful.

Paul thought about it. He felt the weight of the Ledyba in his lap. Every now and again it squeaked in its sleep.

Before he could answer, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He extracted it with some difficulty, finding he was reluctant to disturb the sleeping Ledyba. It was a text from Dest. He groaned, remembering he had forgotten to reply to the last message he had sent.

"_Paul,_" it started. "_You are never gonna believe this, dude. I just cleared Ilex Forest, right? Guess what I found in Route 34? A Ditto. A freaking Ditto!_"

He didn't need to read any more. Dest had a Ditto. One of the rarest and most useful Pokemon around. It didn't even matter if it was 'flawless' or 'ideal' or any of those stupid buzzwords that got tossed around. It was a Ditto. It was automatically better than anything Paul could even hope to produce, perfect or otherwise. His grip tightened around the phone until he felt his knuckles threaten to burst right from under the skin.

"Paul?" Annabelle was still looking for an answer.

Paul shoved his phone into the bottom of his pocket, wishing he could bury the bubbling anger he felt in the pit of his stomach just as easily. "What?"

"Training the Ledyba? Being a good trainer?" Her voice was easy and light, like she was teasing him. It made him tremble with the effort of keeping his temper. "Reckon you can do it?"

The Ledyba snuffled in its sleep and Paul choked out a single sentence.

"We'll see."

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hi guys!**

**Sorry for the delay with this one. I've been busy with helping my friend with his Pokemon Go themed fic and bugging him to update so I've not had so much time to devote to this chapter. **

**That, and I found it quite hard to write. But anyway. **

**I'm back to work on Wednesday next week so I should hopefully have at least one new chapter for you by then. **

**Once again, thanks to all of you who read and reviewed - you really make my day. **

**See you on the next one. **


	8. Theory of Play

**Chapter Eight  
****Theory of Play**

As night fell, Annabelle tended to his wounds.

It was a messy job. Stripping away Paul's amateur attempts at bandaging reopened the cuts and soon, both she and Paul were covered in fresh blood. She murmured sympathetically under her breath. "That Beedrill sure made a mess of your arms."

Paul shrugged. "Doesn't hurt."

Annabelle scoffed. "Like hell it doesn't."

She coiled the bandages around Paul's raised arm, her fingers working quickly and efficiently, the dressing falling into place like a chef working with spun sugar. Tightening and securing the bandages, Annabelle sat back to survey her work.

"There. That should hold for a while. Well, at least until we can get to a Pokemon Centre and have a nurse patch you up."

Paul grunted.

"Speaking of which," Annabelle continued with a worried glance to the darkening sky. "It's getting late. Too late to keep going. We should stop for the night."

"What? Right here?"

He was suddenly very aware of how dark it had become. How the thin branches of the trees reached out and looked like fingers trying to grab unsuspecting travellers. How it was near impossible to tell if the rustling all around them was the leaves shifting in the breeze, or a Pokemon sneaking up behind them through the bushes. Paul swallowed a lump forming in his throat. Had he ever spent the night outside before this?

Annabelle looked at him quizzically. "What? You scared?"

"No!" He said, perhaps harsher than he meant to. "I mean, is camping out here…safe?" he finished lamely.

"Course it is. Worse thing you're going to run into on Route 30 is… what? A Kakuna?"

"Or a Beedrill. Lest you forget."

"It's night. Pokemon sleep too." Annabelle was already on her feet, pulling something from her heavy backpack. "Once I get Abigail working on a fire, nothing will disturb us."

"You never hear the expression 'like moths to a flame'?"

"Well then, just be glad there are no Venomoth on Route 30." She countered easily. "Now come on. Get your tent out."

"…tent?"

Annabelle stopped. "You did bring a tent didn't you?"

Paul ran a hand along the length of his body. "Do I look like the kind of guy who goes camping for the kicks?"

"Admittedly, no. But… where the hell did you think you were gonna sleep?"

"Pokemon Centre?"

"Unbelievable. You know, there isn't a convenient Pokemon Centre at every corner. It's gonna take us at least a few days to get to Violet City. And there's no rest stops."

Paul suddenly felt very stupid. He searched through his bag while Annabelle continued hauling various implements out of hers. No tent. No sleeping bag. No blanket. Not even a pair of pyjamas. He felt the back of his neck burn with quiet embarrassment.

By the time he had pulled everything from his bag in the vaguest of hopes, messily refolded it and crammed it back in as if to illustrate its worthlessness, Annabelle had a fire going and a pink and purple patterned tent propped up under the shelter of some trees. Paul watched her hopefully as she dragged her various belongings inside it.

She caught him looking and frowned. "Forget it."

He didn't think it wise to argue.

At least, he reasoned, she was good enough to leave the fire crackling and burning all night. But these thoughts were little comfort as he pulled a thin hoodie over himself trying to get comfortable in the softest patch of grass he could find.

When he awoke, what felt like mere minutes later, he felt old. The sun was already high and uncomfortably warm and Paul could see the beginning of sunburn etched onto his bare arms and neck. As he struggled to get up, his back stooped and the backs of his legs ached. Finally on his feet, he stretched, every joint in his arms and legs popping in a symphony of clicks.

Annabelle popped her head out from the tent as Paul picked around the makeshift camp. "Morning! Sleep well?"

As insufferably cheery as always. Paul groaned and told her to go away. She only laughed in return, crawled out of the tent and started gathering her things. She had changed her clothes and looked fresh-faced. Paul wished he had had the sense to change his clothes as well. His shirt was crusted with day old sweat and was wrinkled and crumpled. But there was no opportunity to change now as Annabelle breezed past him, smelling of sweet vanilla and something flowery, telling him to hurry up as she wanted to move as soon as possible. His reply, suggesting that she was becoming too bossy for her own good went unheeded.

Annabelle led them still steadily north and Paul's limbs soon screamed with fresh pain at every step. Mentioning this to Annabelle got him no pity. She quipped "Muscle strain'll do that to you" and he swore she quickened her pace to spite him. Above their heads, Abigail soared and chirped through the flawless blue sky, relishing the freedom.

Paul's Pokeball felt heavy in the pocket of his jeans and he tried to ignore the sensation as it rubbed against the top of his thigh. His mind remained firmly occupied on the text which had reached his phone last night – Dest's boastful announcement he was in possession of a Ditto.

He came to an abrupt stop as they cleared a small pond with Pidgey sailing across. "I need to catch more Pokemon."

Annabelle, several paces ahead, did not even break her stride. "What are you saying?"

"Pokemon." Paul broke into a half-hearted jog to catch up. "I need to catch more Pokemon."

"Good luck." Annabelle said with a chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You serious? Isn't it obvious? Your Ledyba is not battle ready. I'd struggle to say he's even battle able. How else do you expect to catch Pokemon if you can't even train yours?"

Paul stiffened. "I can train it."

"And how do you expect to train him? Montage?" she said, snorting with laughter at her own joke.

Paul waited until she was done laughing before repeating. "I can train it."

Annabelle raised an eyebrow expectantly. "There's nothing much out here. And I don't think your Ledyba knows a single move."

"Perhaps not. But it'll learn. I know for a fact there are plenty of weak bug types here. Spinarak. Caterpie. Weedle. They're hardly a threat."

"You send a baby Pokemon like Ledyba into a battle without any moves and it'll get annihilated."

"Ugh, what the hell do you want from me, woman?" Paul said in frustration. "You moan at me for not wanting to train the Ledyba and then when I say I will, you bitch that it's not possible."

"I didn't say it wasn't possible. I said it could be dangerous. For Ledyba and for you. Don't you remember what happened yesterday?" she said, with a glance at Paul's bandaged arms.

"How could I forget?" he muttered.

"By all means, train the Ledyba. But you seem to think just chucking it straight into battle will be just fine and dandy. It's like you're expecting some sort of miracle."

Despite the chastisement, she was being almost irritatingly patient with him – speaking slowly and carefully like she was talking to a small child who was too stupid to know any better. He felt a pinprick of frustration burst under his skin. "Well what the hell do you think I should be doing?"

Her face broke into a broad smile. "If you can wait until we reach a clearing in a few miles, I think I know something that might help."

Paul felt his shoulders sag and his whole body droop. "A few… miles?"

"Yep. It'll help work up an appetite before lunch!" she said, springing forward again and resuming her quick pace.

The conversation obviously closed, Paul swallowed the words he wanted to say and followed her. It was a hot day, even for September, and sweat trickled down Paul's neck. He found himself yearning for an ice cold and refreshing can of Feraligatr energy drink to give him the boost he needed.

After what felt like an eternity, Annabelle came to a stop at a small pond enveloped by a thin circle of trees. "Let's stop here," she said, and before she could even finish her sentence, Paul crashed to the ground, his chest heaving with effort.

After a few minutes of lying on his back like an upturned beetle, his stomach betrayed him and growled loudly in the peace of the resting point. Annabelle sighed, but delved into her shoulder bag and produced a small, see-through bag which she plopped down in front of him.

Paul tore into the bag eagerly, but found himself disappointed when he found it to contain a small cereal bar, dried banana slices, a bottle of lukewarm water and a bag of mixed nuts which had been reduced mostly to crumbs. He looked at Annabelle incredulously.

"What?" she said through a mouthful of energy bar. "This is high energy food. It'll keep you going until lunch."

Paul sniffed. "I thought this was lunch."

"I'm not that cruel." Annabelle deflected. "There's a little Café a mile or so north from here, just before you turn onto Route 31. I was thinking we could stop there?"

It was a question, which Paul found unusual. He nodded and took a bite of the cereal bar. It tasted of… beige. With the occasional muted hint of some berry he didn't know the name of. And no matter how much he chewed, he couldn't break it down. He had to gulp down most of the water just to swallow it properly. Annabelle nibbled and grazed her way through her snacks with no obvious effect.

She whistled for Abigail and released Dusty no sooner had she swallowed the last mouthful. She produced some bags of Pokemon food and laid them out while Paul wondered just how much she could cram in that bag of hers. While the Pokemon feasted, she glared at Paul until he released Ledyba to join them. While Abigail focused on the food in front of her and barely acknowledged the tiny Ledyba, Dusty gazed at him with a mild curiosity, seemingly torn between fascination and the desire to keep his food as safe as possible.

Paul sat back and listened to the sound of the water bubbling in the pond nearby to him. His shirt was damp and sticking to his back, he could smell his own body odour invading his nostrils and for the first time in a long while, he found himself yearning for the cleansing invigoration of a bath or shower. Annabelle looked flushed, but happy, showing no sign of overheating as she guzzled persistently on her water bottle.

"So, what's this big idea you have then?" Paul asked when the silence got too much.

"Oh, yeah, that." Annabelle set her bottle of water down and pulled her knees under her chin. "Well. If we're lucky, I think we're already seeing results."

"What?

Annabelle nodded towards Dusty and Ledyba. The two Pokemon seemed to be playing a gentle game of tag; Ledyba waddling after Dusty, who kept just far enough away to ensure the Pokemon had to constantly change directions and speed to catch up.

"I don't get it."

"I thought not," Annabelle smiled. "Don't suppose you know of the theory of play in cognitive development?"

Paul blinked. That was a lot of big words. "No."

"Basically, it's this theory that started waaaaay back among psychologists. It was this idea that young children developed socially, emotionally and cognitively through imaginative and co-operative play."

She was using even more complicated words and Paul struggled to keep sense of what she was saying. "Yeah…" he said. "But that's kids. Isn't it?"

"You'll be amazed at how it actually corresponds to Pokemon too." Annabelle replied. "Young Pokemon don't magically learn moves by hitting some invisible target just from being in a battle for two seconds. They learn them organically. Naturally. By making connections from something innocent and realising it can be transferred to something else. And in especially young Pokemon, they learn them through play."

As if to demonstrate her point, Ledyba made an odd buzzing sound, incensed at Dusty getting away from him again, and bodily threw himself in Dusty's general direction. It was clumsy, had no indication of any aim and sailed completely off target, but Paul sat up so quickly he nearly choked on his mouthful of water.

"That! That was Tackle! I'm sure of it!" he cried, water dripping down his chin.

The strength of his excitement surprised him and he shrunk backwards as if he was ashamed. Annabelle smiled as the game between Ledyba and Dusty continued. "Yep. I think it was."

He sought for something to say that sounded well-informed or profound but nothing came to him. Instead, he shuffled a little and asked "So where did you learn that?"

"I worked as a nursery assistant for little kids for a year and a bit," Annabelle took another mouthful of water. "This was before I was able to start Little Stars," she added. "They paid for me to do a child psychology course as part of the training. And it's amazing how raising baby Pokemon and raising babies can coincide."

"But, child psychology… That's, like, university level stuff, isn't it?"

"Sometimes," Annabelle's watchful gaze never lifted from Dusty and Ledyba as they still danced around, trying to catch each other. "I don't know. University isn't really my thing."

"Nor mine." Paul said, without thinking.

"What, you went?"

"Briefly. Got kicked out for low scores. My sisters, though… They stuck it out. One's a doctor and one's training to be a maths teacher. It's just me that's the… disappointment."

Annabelle sat perfectly still, listening to every word that tumbled from Paul's mouth. It was only after everything had spilled out, and it was far too late to take them back, that he realised he had said too much. Annabelle's face was creased with a mixture of surprise and concern at his candid response. She was about to speak when an irate buzzing from the Pokemon startled her.

Ledyba was upturned on his back, rigid and still, squeaking in terror as Dusty circled him, cackling with glee while tiny golden spores rained down. Annabelle swore, jumped to her feet and batted Dusty away, yelling "Paralysis! Why is it always paralysis with you?"

Dusty's response was to headbutt Annabelle in the shins. Despite himself, Paul laughed.

Annabelle played the part of nurse perfectly – completely ignoring the redness spreading across her own shin – and scooped the paralysed Ledyba up. From a kit she pulled out from the front of her bag, she administered some weird spray-on medicine that caused the baby Pokemon to yawn and fall asleep within barely half a minute.

"Not surprising," Annabelle cooed, rocking the Ledyba in her arms like a baby. "Paralysis isn't fun. Much less for a baby Pokemon this size. Don't worry, he'll be fine in a little while. Here, put him back in the Pokeball."

Paul tapped the slumbering Pokemon with the Pokeball and he disappeared within. He held the Pokeball in his hand just a little too long and Annabelle rested her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll get there."

"… I know."

"Come on. Let's go. I'm starving and that café does the best soup and sandwiches I've ever had in my life." She tugged on his arm to illustrate her point.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming."

While his body still ached from fatigue and his mind still clouded with envy, he felt substantially lighter as he walked, side by side, with Annabelle on the way to Route 31.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**First off, I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER. Work got kinda mental and then my laptop had to go away for repairs literally almost as soon as I got motivation to write. I wrote most of this in a night, so I'm hoping that sort of motivation sticks around. **

**It is a somewhat short and uneventful chapter, mainly character development. But things should finally start going somewhere in the next chapter and I've got a lot of cool stuff planned for the foreseeable future. Some quite dark things as well - much darker than I normally tend to go in fanfiction. So I'm excited!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed (especially Anla'shok; your lovely detailed review is really what pushed me to get this chapter out), you know it always means a ton to me. I'm going to try really hard to get a couple more chapters out soon as I'm off work again until Sunday. **

**I'm doing a lot of beta-reading and ghostwriting for The Neverending Meep (seriously go read his stuff) so I'll be kept occupied. **

**Oh, and canonically, Paul is 24 and Annabelle is 25. I know, she seems so much younger. **

**Enough of my rambling. Thanks everyone for reading! **


	9. Using Your Head

**Chapter Nine  
Using Your Head**

The café that Annabelle had raved about was a tiny place sitting on the outskirts of a quiet settlement which Paul had no idea even existed before now. It was small, for a business, he reckoned. An awning was built onto the dark wooden exterior and customers flitted around clinking glasses filled with soda. As Annabelle pushed open the door, Paul caught the café's name and chuckled: "Bits and Bites".

A welcome breath of cold air caught Paul off-guard as he shuffled after Annabelle. Air conditioning.

"Strange to have air conditioning in a café…" he muttered to Annabelle. He wasn't about to complain though, hoping to find some excuse to stand underneath it for as long as possible.

"They need it in here, though,"

As she weaved them through, he understood. Every inch of the café's limited space had been utilised – from bookshelves by the door to tables, plush chairs and sofas set up in exact, meticulous lines. There was enough space to move through the furniture – but only just – and Paul struggled to shift his more ample figure between them. A small kitchen area sat in the far left corner and from it, a barrage of smells and noises that made Paul's mouth water in anticipation. The counter at the front of the store groaned under the weight of cakes, pastries and packaged sandwiches.

Annabelle was not shy; took a table directly in-between a family of five and a couple laden with shopping bags. Paul slid into the chair opposite her uncomfortably. It was hard against his back. He cast a wistful glance to the unoccupied sofas.

As Annabelle studied the menu, Paul noticed something interesting. There had been power outlets once installed along the walls and under the tables, but they had been boarded up. A sign hanging on the counter read "No Wi-Fi – talk to each other!" Paul grimaced. It was one of _those _places.

Menus in cafes weren't ordinarily this extravagant. Not in Paul's experience anyway. By the time he glanced over the Soups, Salads, Open Baguettes, Paninis and Baked Potatoes, Annabelle had already ordered. A steaming bowl of sweet potato and carrot soup and a doorstop of generously buttered bread was brought to the table. She paid discreetly with a handful of coins, having to count out the last few coppers. Paul pretended he didn't notice and looked over the sandwich menu again.

"_Egg salad club sandwich with avocado and watercress, £6.99_

_Roasted red pepper hummus, avocado and feta sandwich, £5.99_

_Tomato and Gogoat cheese sandwich with balsamic drizzle, £5.99_

_Grilled mushroom, roasted red pepper and Gogoat cheese wrap, £4.99"_

He looked at Annabelle over the top of the menu. "Where the hell is the food?" he demanded, brandishing the offending menu at her.

She snorted into her soup, sending bright orange lumps all along the table.

"I didn't think a hipster café would be so… posh." He grumbled, before eventually deciding on the slow cooked beef sandwich with onion and mustard. It was a pricy choice but when it was placed on the table in front of him, he instantly warmed up to it. Served in a toasted ciabatta roll and crammed full of tender beef slices, it was so hefty he could barely fit his mouth around it.

They ate in relative silence. The café moved along at a bustling pace – customers ordering, eating and leaving again, just to be replaced by the next ones. Paul found himself somewhat in awe at the efficiency in which the employees worked. He knew the strain of the constant stream of customers and he had often worked himself more and more into a temper the more customers he saw in quick succession.

"I feel like they're just waiting for us to leave so they can get the next lot in and out," Paul muttered, dabbing at a blob of mustard that had fallen on his plate.

"Nah. So long as you keep buying stuff, they won't kick you out."

"I'm getting a coffee then." Paul heaved himself up from the chair. "…want anything?"

"Oh." Annabelle looked uncomfortable and rootled in her bag for a tiny purse shaped like a Sewaddle. She rattled it and Paul heard the jangling of coins. Her face fell slightly. "I, uh… probably don't have enough…"

"That… wasn't what I asked." He said gruffly.

"I know…" Her eyes were firmly on the table.

"What do you like? You like coffee?"

"Not especially. I find it kinda bitter. Oh, but they do a lovely Berry smoothie. It's really healthy – apparently worth like three of your five-a-day!"

Annabelle's eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed. She fanned herself with the back of her hand. Paul frowned. She wasn't still hot, was she? The air conditioning was on full blast and he found it quite pleasant.

"Whatever floats your boat," he shrugged and went to the counter.

He regretted his generosity almost as soon as he saw the prices of the drinks written above the counter on colourful chalkboards. "£8 for a coffee and a smoothie. Goddamn hipster cafes."

The grumbling did not stop even when he sat back down. He did have to admit the drinks were served prettily, far more so than drinks should be. Tall, wide rimmed glasses, his coffee topped with a mound of cream and chocolate shavings, and Annabelle's smoothie a silky pink and garnished with berry slivers.

Annabelle fumbled through her purse again. "I'll… I'll pay you back, you know."

"Forget it." Paul replied, taking a long, slow draught from the mug and allowing the bitter tang to coat his tastebuds. "Call it… a thanks. For all that stuff yesterday."

Slurping the smoothie through a straw, Annabelle didn't argue. Enjoyed a secret smile to herself. They were silent again, absorbed in the rhythm of sipping and gulping while life moved on around them. Just as Paul wished the peace and serenity would go on forever, long after he finished his coffee, the café door swung open with a bang.

Half a dozen kids ran in, shrieking and hollering. Not a single other customer raised their heads in acknowledgement of their arrival. Faces red and flushed, they stampeded through the limited space towards the counter, nearly upturning a chair in the process.

"Bloody kids." Paul grimaced. "No respect."

Annabelle noted the Pokeballs swinging from the belts and bags of the kids. "I think they might actually be Pokemon trainers. Maybe even decent ones."

"You serious? Those little brats? Please."

The kids had taken the table next to Annabelle and Paul. Muddy feet and bags thrown around, tables and chairs scraping against the hard floor and the noise of six or seven drinks cans simultaneously torn open. Paul frowned and mouthed "Can we go?" to Annabelle but she was preoccupied with spooning the last of the smoothie froth from the bottom of her glass and didn't see him.

"Dude, that was so cool the way you threw that Pokeball! And your Poliwag just owned _everything_!"

"I know!" the tallest and scruffiest of the kids puffed his chest out. He held a blue and white patterned Pokeball high above his head. "And this thing is gonna make everything so much easier. Taking on the Gym will be simple!"

The lone girl of the group piped up "But a Heracross won't be much use against Bugsy… will it?" and went largely unnoticed among the jovial woops and cheers.

Paul set his mug down with a slam and stood up in one fell swoop. He turned right towards the tallest kid and said, in as low a voice as he could "Hey, kid. Where did you get that Heracross you're boasting about?"

"What's it to ya?" The kid spoke with an arrogance only ever seen in adolescent boys. He didn't wait for Paul's answer, egged on by jeers from the other kids. "Why the hell do you think I'd tell you anyway?" Even the most basic of curse words seemed embarrassingly ill-fitting. Like a boy trying out a man's language.

"Watch your attitude, kid. I'm just a guy asking another guy for a favour. That's all. No need to get bratty."

"Hmph," the kid seemed to consider this carefully. "Well, I found it right at the end of Route 31. Had to Headbutt a _lot _of trees for it. But you'll be lucky if there's any left!" He added, with a sinister cackle.

"Times like this I can't stand kids…" Paul made no attempt to lower his voice as he pulled his bag out from under the table. "Come on, Annabelle. We're going."

Annabelle looked up in surprise, sporting the remains of a pink frothy moustache. "What? We are?"

"You're damn right we are."

"Where to?"

"Route 31. I'm gonna catch me one of those Heracross if it kills me."

"Heracross?" she frowned, grabbing her bag and dodging around various obstacles to follow. "Hey, Paul, wait!" she cried, as he disappeared out the door.

He was already halfway down the road by the time she disentangled herself. Walking with such purpose and stride, she had to jog to catch him up.

"So what's with the hurry?" she panted.

"Weren't you listening?" he shot her an offhand look over his shoulder. "Those kids in the café had a Heracross."

"So?"

"Heracross are a _damn good _Pokemon to have." He said as if that settled the matter.

"They're also a damn hard Pokemon to find. And an even harder one to fight."

"They can't be that high level for a beginning route."

Annabelle had to run over Paul's statement in her head a few times before she understood. "…what?"

Paul stopped and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Route 31 is, like, one of the first routes trainers come to, yeah? Nothing is gonna be that hard to beat out here."

Annabelle blinked. "You seriously think that's the case? Didn't you learn anything from that Beedrill? What do you think happens? People go about clearing out Pokemon that are too aggressive and too 'high level'?" She snorted. "Danger levels are the same all over, Paul."

Paul felt the back of his neck redden and he growled something unintelligible in response. Damn this woman, always feeling the need to correct and belittle him. "Let's just go…"

"Paul, I'm serious." She grabbed his arm and kept a firm hold. "Heracross aren't a Pokemon to be messed with. That's even _if _you manage to find one."

"Well we'll just have to wait and see then, won't we?" He glowered one last time at her for good measure before stomping off in the general direction of Route 31.

-.-.-

Ponds and trees. That's all Route 31 seemed to offer. Ponds, trees and a constant uphill battle. Paul dragged his weary legs forward, the majority of his motivation now lost in the face of the never-ending upward struggle. As always, Annabelle and her Pokemon marched on, showing no signs of fatigue. Even Ledyba flittered along behind him like it was nothing, his release on Annabelle's insistence.

"Right…" He panted. "This…this ought to be the place."

Annabelle ran her gaze around the place he had them stop. She had to admit, if he was looking for a Heracross, he probably couldn't have picked a better place to search. Surrounded by a canopy of trees, situated nicely away from the trail, she detected a scent of something sweet hanging thick in the air. Honey.

She caught him staring at her and flinched. "What?"

"I need Dusty."

"…I beg your pardon?"

Dusty cocked his head to one size at the mention of his name.

"I need Dusty." He repeated.

"What? No! You're not having Dusty."

"Not to _keep_!" he sighed in exasperation. "I just need to borrow Dusty's Headbutt."

"Shroom!" Dusty chattered. "Shroom! Shroom! Shroom!"

"See? He's totally keen for it."

"No way. Dusty, get back here." She commanded and Dusty teetered back to her obediently. "Look… even if I _gave _you Dusty, do you really think he would listen to you?"

"You'd command him, right?"

"Well… I _could_. But… assuming on the slim chance you actually _found _a Heracross. How would you battle it? Even if it was a weak one, we can't take down a Heracross with a Fletchling, Shroomish and a Ledyba. Actually… that's a point. Have you even got any Pokeballs?"

The look on Paul's face instantly told Annabelle no.

She had to fight to suppress a laugh. "You… don't have any Pokeballs?"

"I… forgot."

"You're hopeless, you know that?"

"Ugh… Dammit." Paul aimed a kick to the base of one of the trees. "Why does everything have to always go wrong?" he supplemented each word with another kick. An errant branch and a handful of leaves came crashing to the ground, a few feet away from Ledyba.

"Calm down. It's not the end of the world." Annabelle tried to sound soothing but she couldn't quite keep a straight face. "It's probably for the best. It's not like Ledyba could take on a Heracross, even if you could find one. And we can get you Pokeballs when we reach Violet City."

"I suppose…"

Paul turned away, contemplating whether he should carry on through Route 31 or sit down in defiance for a good few hours, when he heard a loud _thwack _coming from behind, followed by Annabelle's frightened scream.

"What? What?" he cried, turning on his heel.

Annabelle gestured wordlessly at Ledyba. The tiny Pokemon looked slightly dazed, shook itself down and then bodily slammed itself into the trunk of the nearest tree.

"What the hell…?"

"Le! Le! Le!" Ledyba waggled its arms in happiness and looked up at the two trainers, almost expectantly.

Paul looked at Annabelle. "That's… not usual, is it?"

"No, no, no! Watch, watch, watch!" Annabelle flapped her hands at him in urgency. "He's not using his body like you would in Tackle. He's using his _head_."

Ledyba slammed his head into the bottom of another tree. A startled Pidgey flew from somewhere deep within the branches, screeching at being disturbed and sending a cloud of leaves and branches scattering to the ground. Most of which landed in Annabelle's hair. Dusty squeaked in excitement and joined in with this new game, colliding with another tree with such force the whole thing shook.

"…That's Headbutt!" Annabelle concluded.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ledyba don't learn Headbutt! Not naturally, not by TM, not even by Egg move!" He ticked each one off his fingers.

"Then explain what he's doing then?" Annabelle challenged.

She waited a few seconds while he flailed for an answer.

"I've seen it a few times – not many – but a few." She was rushing to get the words out, like she would lose them if she didn't say them as quick as possible. "Sometimes if Pokemon are raised from birth or from very young around different species of Pokemon, they'll try and copy their moves. I mean, obviously a Fire type isn't going to learn any Water type moves and a Grass type won't start breathing fire any time soon, but some of the more physical moves… it _can _happen. I guess Ledyba really looks up to Dusty or something," she added, with a nervous chuckle.

"…how interesting," was all Paul could say.

"See if he'll do it on command."

"Huh?"

"See if he'll do it on command." Annabelle repeated. "It's all well and good if he's doing it by himself, but unless he does it on command—"

"Alright, alright, quit nagging." He whistled to get the Ledyba's attention, and to his surprise, the little Pokemon halted its efforts and stared up at him.

Flashing back to the last time he had attempted to get the baby Ledyba to listen to him, he tried to put as much authority into his voice as possible.

"Use Headbutt."

His command just came out like he was reading from the dullest book in existence. Ledyba stared at him blankly in return.

Paul tried again. "…that thing you were just doing. Do it again."

Nothing.

"Maybe you should demonstrate." Annabelle snickered.

Paul ignored her. "Headbutt." He repeated. "Use Headbutt. That thing you were literally _just _doing."

"Le! Le! Le!" The Ledyba shimmied its six tiny arms at Paul.

"No. Headbutt!"

"Shroom!" Dusty cried in indignation, irritated nobody was paying attention to him, and collided with the base of another tree.

"Yeah! That thing Dusty's doing!" Paul was clutching at straws and he knew it. "Do that!"

Ledyba cocked his head to one side again, blinked twice, and then, to Paul's surprise, he shot forward and struck the lower part of the tree.

At his Pokemon's unexpected success, Paul had to fight the urge to punch the air. The triumphant gasp of "Yes!" and the wide, beaming smile were not so easily suppressed, however. Annabelle watched in astonishment at what she guessed was the first genuine display of happiness she had seen from Paul. It was like someone had turned a light on in his dark, bottomless eyes.

"Again! Again, Ledyba!"

He obeyed like a charm and Paul's grin grew wider. Even Annabelle couldn't keep a proud smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth. "He's got it!"

Paul couldn't explain the feeling of invigoration he felt bubbling through his body. A fizzy, sparkling sensation that he could only liken to when he had downed an entire packet of popping candy in one go. Perhaps it was stupid, perhaps the feelings he experienced were not properly justified to what was essentially, a minor experience, but for once, he didn't care.

It wasn't a flawless Pokemon. It wasn't another win to add to the belt. But it was tangible. It was real.

It was progress.

And every time the little Ledyba showed off his new trick, he felt a tiny drop of hope. He could do this. Of _course_ he could.

There was no way he was going to let Dest win.

"Alright, Ledyba, let's—"

But Paul's sentence did not leave his mouth unfinished as he was met with a symphony of violent buzzing and crashing. His eyes widened as the tree Ledyba had just headbutted spewed out half a dozen mustard yellow and coal black devils. Beedrill. A whole swarm of them.

"…you have got to be kidding me…" Annabelle gulped.

"Run for it!" Paul wasted no time, scooped up the Ledyba in his arms and ran as fast as his exhausted legs could allow him.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hi everybody! Another chapter for you!**

**Probably won't be able to keep up with two chapters a week - possibly will get one out next week if I'm lucky - but I found out today I have more holiday starting next Sunday so I'll have a chance to keep up with it all.**

**We've officially left the beginning of the story now - thank God - so it should start moving along a bit faster now - training, catching, lots of character development. I've got a few really fun plot points to explore that I've planned out so I'm so excited to start those. **

**Again, massive big thanks to everyone that's read and reviewed this one. I really do appreciate it and I really hope I don't end up losing momentum for this one like I have done another few projects **

**Speaking of which. I realised today it's coming up to SIX YEARS since I first started publishing on this site with Spirited. I've got three months until then, so I wanna do something really special to commemorate that. I just don't know what yet. **

**Much regards and love for all of you reading**


	10. The Battle of the Century

**Chapter Ten  
****The Battle of the Century**

Violet City. Finally a place that Paul knew. As he and Annabelle dragged their exhausted bodies up the familiar streets, he had never been so glad to see a city, and only the amenities it could provide, rise up from the horizon.

The Beedrill gave up chasing them half a mile from the end of Route 31. Even Pokemon get bored eventually, Annabelle had chuckled when they were in the clear, trying to find the funny side. Paul's steamy silence had spoken otherwise. While they had luckily escaped with only minor cuts and bruises, it had soured his temper further, and they progressed the rest of the way without speaking a word to each other.

Stepping foot in Violet City, Paul's demeanour changed instantly. While before he had been content for Annabelle to take the lead, he now overtook her and strode confidently ahead of her.

"You know Violet City then?" she ventured when she was quite sure he wasn't about to explode at her question.

"Yeah. Been here loads of times."

"Really? What for?"

"Pokemon Trading Card Championships."

"Oh." Annabelle couldn't think of anything to say to that. "Did you win?"

"Course I did."

They crossed the road at a set of traffic lights and he then led her down a street she didn't know. She faltered on the street corner, torn between chasing him and staying still. "Hey, where are you taking us?"

"Pokemon Centre."

He was beginning to put distance between them. "But the Pokemon Centre is down near Sprout Tower, though." He wasn't listening and she had to jog after him. "Paul! Hey! The Pokemon Centre is back the way we came."

Paul sighed. "There are two Pokemon Centres in Violet City, Annabelle. The second one is newly opened – they had just opened it when I left. It's closer to the shopping district. Much more convenient. Don't you think?"

She hadn't known that. Then again, it had been a long time since she had the time, or the funds, to pay a visit to the neighbouring city. She murmured in agreement and followed him, torn between feeling impressed and feeling stupid.

The towering, unmistakable sign of the Pokemon Centre drifted into her vision along the stony streets and she let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. She had always loved Pokemon Centres – relished every rare opportunity she had been given to enter one – and it was a peculiar feeling that hit her every time. Today was no different. Stepping inside, she felt instantly at home – like returning to a favourite place, a childhood bedroom, after a long time away.

This new Pokemon Centre was one of the fancy modern ones made fashionable in Unova. Of course it had all the necessities - a counter staffed by several nurses and Chansey assistants, an upstairs dormitory with rooms for travelling trainers, a block of PCs and video phones, but there were several updated features she had never seen before. A Pokemon mart had been built within the interior of the lobby; shelves stuffed with items and goods you could only get at some of the larger department stores. Even the standard cafeteria had been given a new lease of life, set up with coolers and chillers and a hot food section. All sorts of artwork and maps from every region adorned the bright, cheerful walls and the bright polished tiles looked freshly scrubbed. Annabelle's muddy shoes squeaked, scattering little drops of water and dirt as they walked through.

"There's a lot of people here..." Paul said, as they joined the queue.

"Don't tell me you've never actually been in a Pokemon Centre before?" she teased.

"Of-of course I have!" he stammered. "Just never as…busy as this one."

The line surged and they found themselves at the front of the counter. The nurse facing them was not the jolly, pink-haired young woman that Paul had been expecting. She was middle-aged, portly and had dark hair slicked so far back she looked like the product of an unfortunate facelift. When she smiled, though, she was warm and welcoming, and Paul felt some of the tension leave his body.

"Welcome to Violet City Pokemon Centre, how may I help you?"

Paul opened his mouth to speak when it occurred to him that he had no idea what the hell to say to her.

"We need a bed for the night," Annabelle interjected, laughing nervously. She was suddenly aware how bedraggled and smelly the two of them must have looked. "And Pokemon for healing."

"Trainer's licenses?"

Annabelle flashed her ID card with a flourish while Paul spent the better part of five minutes digging around in pockets and bags for his wallet until he found the ID wrapped up in several old receipts.

The nurse nodded at its eventual presentation. "Lovely. And how many Pokemon?"

"Three. Ledyba, Fletching and Shroomish." Annabelle had done this before, judging from the nurse's nods of approval. "Just for rest and minor healing. We had a run-in with some Beedrill." She added with another nervous giggle.

She placed her two Pokeballs in a tray the nurse handed over and she prodded Paul until he did the same. He dropped Ledyba's Pokeball in along with Annabelle's and felt a jolt of reluctance as the warm sphere left the comfort of his palm.

The nurse signed some paperwork, took their names and then handed Annabelle a set of keys. "You'll be in Room Fifteen tonight."

"Both of us?" Her eyes widened.

"It's a twin room." The Nurse replied calmly. "We're unfortunately very busy tonight, but the room is spacious."

"Well, if it can't be helped, it can't be helped." Annabelle said with an accepting nod. "So long as you don't snore," she grinned cheekily.

"I'll have you know—"

"Your Pokemon will be due for collection in a few hours." The nurse interrupted as the queue behind them started to lengthen again. "We'll notify you when they're ready. There's a little beeper on your keys that'll start buzzing and flashing. Is that okay?"

"Of course. Thanks."

"Great. Hope you have a nice stay,"

Annabelle was already halfway up the stairs to the dormitory block and Paul followed along, lamenting the final hurdle. Their corridor was loud, banging and crashing going on behind several closed doors, but Annabelle led them along as if she heard nothing. She unlocked the door and shouldered it open.

Paul looked in before Annabelle could get a chance. He found himself disappointed. The room was… basic. To say the very least. Like every cheap hotel room he had ever stayed in. Two beds with identical white bedsheets, a bedside table apiece, a small chest of drawers for storing a few scant bits of clothing, and that was it. No television. No radio. Not even an alarm clock. At least there was a power outlet to charge his phone, which had died a spontaneous death long before it should have. Paul looked around, frowning, at the scarcity of it all, but Annabelle threw her bags down and collapsed right on the bed nearest the window.

"Ohhh, yeah…" she moaned, stretching out all of her joints and sounding like she was in the lap of luxury. "This is the life…"

Paul perched at the edge of the other bed. It was surprisingly firm and held his weight well, so he leaned back until he found a comfortable position. Annabelle had her eyes shut and her chest was rising and falling rhythmically. Was she already asleep?

"So, why so long of a wait on the Pokemon? I thought it was pretty much instantaneous."

Annabelle giggled and rolled onto her side to face him. "Course not. That's just a gimmick the games use. Come on, people don't go into hospitals, get zapped by some machine and everything is fine again. It takes time. Bed rest. And when you get serious injuries, believe me, they happen," she added, seeing Paul's incredulous look. "It can take even longer. Bones might need to be set. Stitches put in. Seriously. It can be an unpleasant job." She paused for a moment. "Don't worry, though. They'll buzz us when they're ready."

"…I'm not worried."

"Good." Annabelle said brightly, sitting back up. "Anyway. I'm going to go and shower. After that, you want to go and get some lunch?"

Paul's stomach grumbled before he could answer and Annabelle laughed "I'll take that as a yes, then. Shower blocks are just at the end of the hall – east side for men and west side for women. Don't get those mixed up." She imparted sternly, before disappearing out the door in a flurry.

"How old does she think I am? Twelve?" he muttered to himself.

He shoved his phone on to charge, grabbed some clothes from the bag and marched out the door, not bothering to lock it behind him.

He never did like communal showers. What sane person did? But thankfully, the block was empty and Paul spent a long time standing under the hot water, letting it wash over every inch of his aching body. He was amazed at just how dark the water went, lifting off a few days' worth of dirt and grime. The cuts on his arm stung; having to remove the bandages before stepping in had ripped some of them open again and for a while, the water ran with blood and dirt.

Despite it all, he felt a strange sense of gratitude for something as simple as a hot shower. He tried not to think about how long it would be until the next one as he padded barefoot down the corridor and back to the room.

Annabelle was already back, dried and dressed. He cringed a little. Did he really take that long just to shower? His pride had once been set as the master of the five minute shower; getting in, washed and out before the water could even heat up properly.

Standing in front of the mirror, Annabelle ran a brush through her long hair, manipulating it into some sort of fancy braid. She had changed out of her usual baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans and was wearing a deep navy blue dress cut just above her knee. There was something different about her face too. The skin seemed much smoother and more defined, her eyelashes somehow darker and longer and she smelled pleasantly of strawberries.

"Are you wearing makeup?" he said, by way of greeting.

Annabelle flushed beetroot – even under the layer of foundation and blusher she was wearing. "Yes." She said stiffly.

"Why?"

"Because just because I run around after Pokemon and spent ninety-five percent of my time knee deep in mud doesn't mean I don't enjoy looking halfway girly from time to time!" Annabelle threw her brush down and turned away, but Paul could still see her blushing in the reflection of the mirror.

"Alright. Chill." He said, tossing his muddy clothes at the foot of his bed. "You just look a little different. That's all."

"Different good or different bad?" she queried, but her question was lost to Paul as he started digging around in his bag for a pair of socks.

"Reckon the Pokemon will be ready to be picked up yet?" He asked, squeezing his feet into the only pair he had that wasn't riddled with holes.

"Room hasn't been buzzed yet, so probably not." She answered curtly.

"Oh. Lunch then?"

"May as well."

The cafeteria was overrun with trainers by the time Annabelle and Paul made it down. Much to Paul's irritation, most of the tables and chairs were occupied, not by people, but Pokemon. He counted half a dozen Sentret and Hoothoot, a couple of rambunctious Geodude and one particularly stupid looking Dunsparce.

"Do people have no consideration for others?" Paul growled as he pushed his way towards one of the few empty seats available.

Annabelle bit her lip in an effort not to snap back at him. After staking their claim to an occupied table by plopping bags and hoodies down, they went to investigate the food on offer. Paul frowned as he studied the few offerings set out. There was nothing interesting in the chillers – only pots of fruit and some empty plates and bowls he assumed were supposed to be filled with… something. Even the hotplates were empty, leaving nothing but crumbs. All that was left was a pot of soup and a selection of sandwiches with uninspired fillings – cheese, egg, ham, all slightly hardening and curling up at the edges.

"They don't have much choice, do they?"

"Considering this is given out for free, I think it's pretty good." Annabelle pulled up the ladle in the soup pot and took a big, appreciative sniff. "Mm. Lentil."

"Wait, they give this out for free?"

"Course. Duty of care and all that. Notice how we didn't pay for the Pokemon care and the room for the night?"

"…good point." He nodded. "But I'm not really into eating this. If I remember right, there's a proper sandwich shop just down the road from here. Wanna go there?"

"Ah… no, it's okay." Annabelle ladled a generous portion of the soup into a bowl. "I'm good here. You go if you want."

"Ehh. Your loss." He shrugged. "I'll be back soon."

"Honestly…" Annabelle sat back down as the automatic doors breezed open and he disappeared out.

She cherished the warmth of her bowl of soup, dipping in sandwich after sandwich to soak up the last dregs. Belly satisfyingly full, she sat back and let the warm, full, happy feeling float through the rest of her body. She sat there a full twenty minutes, watching the coming and going of trainers around her. The little beeper on the end of her keys suddenly buzzed and it was with some reluctance that she pushed herself up from her little nest and approached the counter.

"Pickup for Room fifteen?"

The nurse handed over the tray of Pokeballs and Annabelle pocketed her own two, deciding to keep a proper hold of Paul's Ledyba until he got back.

She had just settled down at the table again when he came galumphing back, dropping a greasy wrapper with the remnants of some unholy combination of bread and what looked like every meat substance known to man. A few sprigs of lettuce peeped out, long since abandoned. Annabelle raised an eyebrow. "Do you eat anything healthy?"

"Do you eat anything?" Paul countered, letting out a massive belch for good measure.

"Ledyba's back, by the way." Annabelle handed the Pokeball over.

"Sweet." Paul said, stuffing the ball into the pocket of his jeans. "Now I can get down to business."

"What business?"

"Getting this Ledyba trained and catching some new Pokemon. I already saw a bunch of bird Pokemon hanging around the park when I went up to get my food. I'm heading there."

"Well you won't get anywhere without any Pokeballs!" Annabelle trilled, stopping Paul in his tracks as he approached the door.

"Good thinking."

Annabelle watched in shock as Paul laid down a £100 charge on his credit card for five Pokeballs, like it was spare change. Memories of the hours of overtime she had to pull just to save enough for her first Pokeballs so she could be considered a proper trainer resurfaced, and she found a tiny prick of resentment at just how easy some people had it.

Shoving the Pokeballs into his bag, he was off and out the Pokemon centre immediately. He led them to a park, one of many dotted around the peaceful city. The sun was at its peak, shining brightly, and had attracted several trainers. They all congregated in the grassy areas sheltered by trees and sat beside calm ponds. Paul cracked his knuckles, his keen gaze searching out the Pokemon he had seen before.

"You're sure you saw Pokemon here?" Annabelle struggled to conceal a yawn after ten minutes of futile searching. "The only Pokemon I see belong to other people."

"Well, I did. These other stupid people scared them off." He grunted. "I thought Pokemon who lived in the cities weren't supposed to be this scared of humans?"

"Doesn't mean they're going to hang about and wait to be captured." Annabelle took a seat on a nearby bench. "I think you're wasting your time, Paul."

"Great. Perfect. Fan-tas-tic!" Paul aimed a kick at a nearby stone.

With a soft thunk, the stone skittered away in the distance, coming to an abrupt halt as it collided with something round and blue standing at the front of a nearby pond.

"Shit."

The tiny blue thing, upon closer inspection, was an Azurill. Which had promptly burst into tears. A little girl standing a few feet away scooped up the Azurill and was now looking furiously around for the source of the missile.

Paul seriously debated running away. "She didn't see me, did she?" he hissed to Annabelle.

"You better pray she didn't."

"Hey! You!"

"Yep. She saw you."

The little girl couldn't have been any more than nine or ten years old, and wearing a shirt stamped with a Skitty pattern and a frilly skirt, the last thing she ought to have been was intimidating. Despite the fact she stood at barely half Paul's height, he still grimaced when she squared right up to him. This was not going to be pretty.

"You! You hurt my Puddles!"

"Your… Puddles?"

"Yeah! My 'Zurill!"

"Look, I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean to hit your… 'Zurill." He winced, unsure which of the ridiculous names to use. "It was an accident."

"I demand satisfaction!"

Paul stopped in his tracks. "You demand… what?"

"Satisfaction!" She puffed out her chest. "For hitting my 'Zurill! I challenge you to a Pokemon battle!"

Paul blinked. "Kid, no."

"Wha?" she cried. "W-well, why the heck not?"

"I'm not battling a Pokemon that's basically a glorified punching bag."

The little girl looked confused, Paul's rhetoric sailing above her head. "Yeah?" she challenged. "Well… you're a butt!"

Annabelle choked on a mouthful of water she had just put to her lips. "Can't argue with her there," she giggled.

"Butt?!" Paul was incensed. "Kid, you don't know what you're talking about!"

"Butt-face! Butt-face! Butt-face!" The little girl chanted.

"Ugh!" Paul dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans. "Fine! You want a Pokemon battle, then you've got it!"

Annabelle was fighting with the urge to burst out laughing. "Azurill vs. Ledyba." She choked out. "Oh, Arceus, it's the battle of the century."

"Oh, will you shut up?" Paul yelled back, before turning back to the kid. "So, kid, what's your rules?"

"I'm not 'kid'! I'm Emily!"

"Emily, whatever. Your rules?"

"I dunno." Emily scuffed her shoes and wrung her hands behind her back. "First Pokemon to faint loses, I guess?"

"Simple enough. Alright," Paul tossed his Pokeball forward and Ledyba popped out. Dazed and confused from so long in the Pokeball, he took fright at the sudden change of scenery and scuttled behind Paul's leg. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

"Cool!" The little girl scampered forward to get a closer look at the Ledyba behind Paul's legs. "I've never seen an 'Edyba before!"

"…'Edyba? You mean Ledyba."

"Yeah! They're so cool! I like all Bug-types! Like 'Pinarak and 'Eracross!"

"…sure." Paul muttered. "Look, can we battle and get it over with?" He was suddenly conscious of many people walking by, laughing at the paltry offerings of the impromptu battle. He could practically hear their insinuations. He, a twenty-four year old with a Ledyba, a Pokemon hardly any more impressive than a nine year old's Azurill.

"Okay then! Puddles, go use Water Gun!"

"Hey, no, wait, I wasn't ready!" Paul cried out before both he and Ledyba were blasted with a torrent of water.

While Emily and Annabelle both roared with laughter, Paul shook himself like a dog and looked up at Emily through dripping wet hair. "I already showered today!" He grunted, stepping aside to allow Ledyba to face his opponent. "Goddammit. You better pull through for me."

"Le?"

"Well go on, then," he flapped his hands at Ledyba, hoping the Pokemon would understand. "Use Headbutt on the Azurill!"

He fully expected the little Pokemon to either not understand or disobey completely. But to his surprise, the Pokemon steadied itself on his feet and stared at the Azurill, bobbing away to herself. It was an agonising wait as Ledyba tried to figure out what to do.

"Headbutt!" Paul tried again. "That thing you were doing earlier! Headbutt!" He mimed the action at a last resort and then, Ledyba's eyes lit up.

"Le!" he cried, bouncing forward. "Le! Ledyba!"

He moved before Paul could register it as fact. He was surprisingly fast. It was a pleasant realisation as he watched his Pokemon dart towards Emily's Azurill, head bowed and ready to mow down the opposition.

"Dodge it, Puddles!"

"No!" Paul cried out as Puddles effortlessly moved out of the way and Ledyba crashed headlong into a tree. "Oh, come on! Dodge is not a move!"

Emily giggled manically. "Look! Your 'Edyba's a butthead too!"

"You're really starting to annoy me, kid!" Paul's temper suddenly flared. He found himself aching for the familiar – the computer inputted commands, the carefully calculated odds, the knowledge – and the abilities – to take out any opponent he was faced with. Now, he was battling with a Pokemon with barely anything to offer against a little girl with an Azurill. And he was losing.

"Puddles! Use Charm!"

The Azurill bounced forwards and propped itself up on its tippy-toes. It waggled its body and its tail back and forth in a strangely adorable sidestep-to-sidestep dance, its wide eyes blinking and adoring. Ledyba backed off, looking up at Paul in distress.

"Shit. Attack lowered by two stages. This isn't good." Paul muttered to himself. "Oh my God, man, think. Azurill have a base 20 attack and Ledyba… also 20, goddammit. Okay, okay, think again. If the Azurill knows Charm, it has to be at least level 10. Means it has access to Bubble. Maybe Bubble Beam if it's any higher. But Ledyba's got decent Special Defence. Means even if it has Bubble Beam, it shouldn't be doing that much damage. And it doesn't get a physical move until what, level 20? It's not that big of a threat, not really."

"So why can't I keep calm?"

He pushed that thought away.

"Hey, butt-head! Hurry up and make a move!" Emily was taunting him, as best as little girls knew how to do.

Paul growled. "Come on, Ledyba! Headbutt again and make sure you hit it this time!"

"Leyyy!"

Ledyba collided with the Azurill, sending them both sailing clumsily to the ground. Emily's hand flew to her mouth and she gasped. "Puddles! Oh no, Puddles!"

"Yes!" Paul punched the air. "Come on, Ledyba! Get up and use Headbutt again!" He suddenly hesitated and looked back at Annabelle. "Wait, can I do that? Can I take another turn before she does?"

"YES!"

Emily wailed as Ledyba struck Azurill again. "Please, Puddles! Get up and use Bubble!"

Puddles jumped obediently to her feet and let loose a stream of clear bubbles that powered towards Ledyba.

"Dodge, dodge, dodge!" Paul screamed.

The bubbles had spread to such a widespread area it was nigh on impossible to completely avoid them. Thankfully, it worked in Ledyba's favour as only a tiny number of bubbles actually came into any contact with him – leaving him no worse for wear once the attack died down.

"Headbutt again! Quickly! While it's tired!"

Ledyba struck again. And then again. Gradually forcing the tiring Azurill back a few feet, only for it to regain some ground with another Bubble attack. In the aftermath, Ledyba would resume the Headbutts and the whole cycle would repeat again. Annabelle, still watching, let out a noisy yawn as the battle struggled on.

"How enthralling…" she mimed falling back on the bench in boredom.

This is madness, Paul thought in exasperation. Sure, the standard Azurill had the potential to have a pretty good defence, at least in comparison to its offences, but by Paul's calculations, this many Headbutts at point blank range should have worn it down long ago. It couldn't be much longer now, could it? Surely it couldn't withstand much more? He chanced a worried look at Ledyba. It didn't look like he was going to last much longer either.

He clenched his fists. He was not going to lose his first Pokemon battle. Even with a Ledyba. And certainly not against a little girl half his age with an Azurill.

"Come on, Ledyba! One last Headbutt! And give it all you've got!"

"Leeeee!"

Ledyba gathered itself together, buzzing fiercely and shot forward towards Puddles. It moved at such speed that Emily didn't get a chance to call out another command. Ledyba rammed straight into the Pokemon's rounded belly and the two of them went flying backwards until they collided with the back of a tree.

"Holy shit!" Annabelle sat bolt upright.

Paul was already cheering. Emily was fighting back tears, crying out her Pokemon's name. Neither of them moved towards the Pokemon lying on the ground, but Annabelle had spotted something that gave her concern and she raced up to them.

Her suspicions confirmed, she let out a soft murmur. "Oh no…"

Puddles the Azurill was stirring. Ledyba was not.

"Guys?" she called, trying to catch their attention. "Guys!"

She gestured wordlessly at the two Pokemon. Puddles had roused herself and was now standing up, looking from the unconscious Ledyba back to her trainer, waggling and bouncing her tail like nothing had happened. Paul's face fell and he looked like he wanted to sink into the ground.

"Come on, Ledyba. Get up…" he willed, hardly able to believe it. "I don't understand…" his voice came out as a mere croak. "He had it… he had it with that last Headbutt."

"Looks like the force from the attack knocked Ledyba out…" Annabelle knelt down and picked up the unconscious Pokemon.

"No… no, no, no!" Paul protested. "No, surely he can get up?" Then, tinged with anger. "He's got to get up."

"I'm sorry, Paul." Annabelle put a hand on his shoulder. "It's over. You've lost."

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Dun dun duuuun! Heh, excuse the dramatics, guys. I just couldn't think of any other way to end this already really long chapter. **

**But yeah, this turned out to be a lot longer than I thought it would be. I originally planned on a whole other section to this chapter but that'll be the next one now. **

**I'm not sure whether to keep Emily as a main/recurring character. I ended up liking her a whole lot more than I planned. **

**Anyway, I don't have too much to say about this one. I'm sorry if the battle sucks - I'm a bit out of practice on battles and there's only so much you can do with Azurill vs Ledyba. **

**Thanks as always go to The Neverending Meep for the beta-reading and all the competitive stats help (go read his fic - Pokemon Generations Online if you like the sound of Pokemon Go meets Sword Art Online) **

**Until the next one! **


	11. Small Fry, Small Talk

**Chapter Eleven  
Small Fry, Small Talk**

Paul did not move for a few moments but Annabelle could feel his shoulder trembling under her hand, his anger bubbling and fermenting at her touch. Praying for an easy resolution, for his fury to ease off, she didn't want to speak again for fear of him blowing up completely.

Emily was in her element. Picking up her Azurill and dancing around, she was cackling and smirking in a way that was quite unbecoming of a girl her age. Paul was stiff with rage.

"…Paul?" Annabelle dared to ask, flinching even as she spoke. "Are you…alright?"

Then he snapped.

He kicked. He yelled. He screamed. He stomped around like every footfall was crushing a particularly nasty bug underneath. Annabelle could only watch helplessly, cradling the injured Ledyba against her chest, while his trainer rampaged around like an angry Tauros. There was no point in trying to intervene – like a toddler in a tantrum he would just have to work himself through it.

When it eventually looked like he had run through most of his energy and was calming down, Emily danced up to him and held out her hand.

Paul glowered down at her. "What do you want? You already won. Isn't that enough?"

"Prize money!"

A deep frown creased Paul's face. "I'm sorry. What?"

"Prize money! Me and my 'Zurill beat you, so you have to give me money!"

Paul looked back at Annabelle who only had to nod for Paul to lose his grip on his temper again.

"Are you kidding me? I have to hand over all my money to this runt?!"

"It's the law!" Emily giggled, stretching out her hand further.

Paul swore. Many times. Harsh, crass words that even Annabelle had never heard in conjunction with each other. Yet Emily did not blink, simply continued to hold out an expectant hand until Paul finally relented.

Annabelle felt her heart constrict painfully as Paul handed the little girl a fistful of crisp, clean notes. She squeezed Paul's Ledyba a little too tightly and it moaned in pain. She shushed it, somewhat impatiently, her eyes firmly fixed on the exchange between Paul and Emily.

The little girl counted her prize money out with wide, greedy eyes. "Whoa… there's so many. I can buy _so _much candy with this!"

"WHAT!?" Paul bellowed.

"Just kidding!" Emily bobbed up and down on her tip-toes, her Azurill copying her. "I don't even like candy much."

Paul growled. "You are _really _pushing it, kid."

Emily grinned smugly, showing off a gap in her teeth. "Thanks for the battle, butt-face! You were really easy to beat!"

"Say what?!"

Emily stuck her tongue out and flounced away, leaving Paul shaking furiously. Annabelle allowed him a moment before approaching him

"Did you see that? Did you _see _that?!" he demanded of her, waving his hand at Emily's rapidly retreating back.

"Of course I did."

"What a little brat! What _kid _acts like that?"

"A lot of Pokemon trainer kids do behave like that, unfortunately. I get the feeling she knew what she was doing."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I've seen it before. Gangs of kids who act like they're really weak and then destroy any opponent who gets taken in by the façade. I don't know, maybe I'm just being too suspicious. Something about her just seemed…off."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Then explain how she beat you like it was nothing?"

"She didn't. I nearly won." Paul muttered traitorously.

"Well… despite it all, Ledyba did really good for his first proper battle."

"Hey, what about me?" Paul asked, incensed. "It was my first battle too!"

"You weren't the one slamming into everything with your _head_." Annabelle replied sternly. "Ledyba did really good. I'd like to think he surprised you. He certainly surprised _me. _And instead of you behaving like a proper Pokemon trainer and taking care of your injured Pokemon – you know, he got injured because of _you_ – you're sitting there bitching and moaning about it being unfair!"

She had progressed to shouting without even realising. When her anger slipped away, she half-expected Paul to launch into another tirade of moans, groans and criticisms. But he stood there, his head bowed slightly, looking like a naughty schoolboy pulled up in front of the headmaster.

"I know," was all he could manage.

Annabelle pushed the injured Ledyba into Paul's arms. "You've got to start taking a bit more responsibility! This Pokemon is _yours_! And if you don't appreciate what he did for you, he'll end up hating you, and then what are you gonna do?"

"I know."

"He did well! Really well! Considering he never battled properly before and it looked like quite a tough opponent!"

"I know, Annabelle."

"Well start acting like you know, then!" she snapped, before turning her back on him. "Come on." She said thickly. "Let's just go to the Pokemon Centre and get him healed up."

"You go ahead. I'll catch you up."

"Fine."

He waited until she disappeared from sight before shifting the Ledyba into a better position in his arms. The Pokemon had fallen asleep. Bruises had formed across the tiny Pokemon's wings and back and a thin trickle of blood dripped from its mouth. Paul wiped the blood away with his thumb.

"Sorry, dude. Sorry you got hurt. You did good though."

The words were clumsy and probably fell on deaf ears. But they were all Paul had to offer. He felt a stab of shame. This Pokemon, battered and bruised, had fought without question under his command, and now as it lay snoring in Paul's arms, he couldn't even find the words to articulate a proper apology. Or gratitude.

Rest. That was the only thing for it. For both him and the Ledyba. He tapped the slumbering Pokemon with its Pokeball and it disappeared in bright red light, leaving his arms empty and missing the heavy warmth it had just held.

.-.-.

"Hey. You awake?"

A groan. "I am now."

It was nearing midnight. Annabelle had been lying awake for the past hour and Paul, as she had discovered, was a surprisingly light sleeper.

"Sorry." Annabelle rolled over on her side and shut her eyes. "I'll let you sleep."

"…what do you want?"

She popped her eyes open again. "But I thought you wanted to sleep?"

"I do."

"Then why—?"

"Just tell me what you want, woman!"

"Okay, okay, okay…" Annabelle pulled the covers underneath her chin. "I just… Well… I don't know, it's silly."

"Annabelle…" Paul's voice sounded muffled. Did he have his head under the covers? "Can you please just say what you want?"

"I just wanted to talk." She twitched her shoulders in the tiniest of shrugs.

"Talk?" He sounded confused. Like it was a completely foreign concept to him.

"Yeah. You know, that thing every normal human being ever does."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything."

Paul growled. "Can't you be any more specific?"

"Not really. I just wanna talk."

"Seriously, what about?"

"Anything."

"Oh God, Annabelle!" Paul sat up in a manic rustling of covers and blankets. He snapped on the light and the room was filled with a harsh orange glow. Blinking in the sudden brightness, Annabelle could barely even register him snapping "If you want to talk, fine! But pick a subject!" He lay back with a thump on the pillows, slamming the light off again in the process.

"O…kay." Annabelle stared up at the ceiling, letting her eyes readjust to the darkness. "Hm… subject. Subject. Oh! So, what was it that made you start this whole thing again?"

Paul frowned. "I already told you. Got in a competition with my friend."

"Mm. That much I know. What _was _the competition?"

"First person to find four 'ideal' Pokemon wins. We're supposed to meet at the Lake of Rage in just under a month."

"And who is this friend?"

"Guy I know online. Goes by the name of Dest."

Annabelle wrinkled her nose. "What kind of a name is Dest?"

"Short for DestinationOverload."

"That doesn't clear up anything." She giggled. "What's their actual name?"

"Don't know."

"You don't _know_? You don't know your own friend's name?"

"Don't need to. Everyone on there goes by screen names."

"Have you ever talked to him?"

"Course. Loads of times. He texts me a lot."

"No, I mean properly. Like, on the phone."

"Nah. Don't like phones much."

"Then how do you know he's not like twelve or something? Or even worse, some fifty something creepy guy."

Despite himself, Paul laughed. "You wouldn't say that if you knew the guy."

"Fair enough." Annabelle smoothed her wrinkled covers down. "So, why a Riolu?"

"Huh?" It took Paul a moment to register where she had moved the conversation to. "Oh, the Riolu…" he murmured, remembering with a jolt of apprehension the Riolu egg supposedly waiting for him in Blackthorn. "I dunno. I always liked Lucario, I guess. If I really had to become a Pokemon trainer, I figured I'd take a Pokemon I actually would like to train IRL."

Annabelle frowned. "Eye… rar el?"

"IRL." Paul spelled out. "Means 'in real life'."

"Oh." Annabelle chuckled. "Sorry. I'm not really

"S'alright." Paul shrugged. "Anything else you wanna know?"

"Are you worried?"

The question came from Annabelle before she was even aware she was asking it. It hung heavy in the air for a few moments.

"Worried? What about, exactly?"

"Anything? Everything?"

"I guess just worried I won't get the Riolu egg in time." He said after some thought. "The lady you called up said three to four weeks. But I'm supposed to be meeting Dest in a month. And by the way we're going, we'll hardly be in Cianwood by that time. It's not looking likely I'll get the Riolu by the time I need to meet Dest."

"Well…" Annabelle shifted around in bed for a few moments. "The breeders will hold your egg for you as long as they need to. So there's no problem there. As for Dest, why don't you just ask to reschedule if you think you won't be ready in time?"

"I don't know…" Paul murmured. It was a thought that had graced his mind, wholly unpleasant and uninvited, a few times before now. "I don't think he'd be cool with that."

"Well, you don't know for sure. It's just a suggestion?"

"I know. I think I'll cross that bridge if I have to come to it."

There was a silence between them, broken only by the soft hum of their breathing and a door opening and slamming shut down the corridor.

"I thought you'd be worried about Ledyba." Annabelle eventually found the courage to say what had been bothering her for some time. "And y'know… still angry that you lost."

Paul grunted. "I'm angry that I lost in such a bullshit way. Hax. Hax all the way. If that had been in-game, I would have won. There's no doubt about that. But…" he added, with a deep sigh. "It's all experience at the end of the day. Soon as Ledyba gets a little tougher and I catch more Pokemon, it'll all be great."

Annabelle wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her, or himself, of that.

"Do you want to head straight out of Violet tomorrow? Or stay another day?"

While the thought of another day with access to showers, beds and electricity was devilishly attractive to Paul, he forced himself to think logically. "We'll need to keep going. Won't we?"

"Yeah. Head down Route 36 and—"

"I know. Take the next route up to Ecruteak. I know."

"Really? You'd go the Ecruteak way?"

"…yeah?"

"Why not go straight to Goldenrod? They do ferry sailings every few days."

"Ferry crossings? But that's—"

"Not in the games?" Annabelle chimed in unison.

Paul glared at her through the darkness of the room. "I hate when you do that."

"It's not my fault you're so predictable." She said with a secret grin.

"Ugh, whatever. If a ferry gets us there quicker, I'm all for it. God knows I just want _that _part of this whole stupid thing over with as quickly as possible."

"Arceus, you're grumpy." She laughed. Then she softened, lowering her voice so much that Paul had to strain to hear her. "But… you know, it does mean a lot to me you're going to… y'know, set things right."

"You barely gave me an option."

"Heh. I guess I didn't." She stared up at the ceiling. "I'm glad we're doing this. It's been fun. In a sort of a weird way. Reminds me a lot of the first time I did this."

She was baiting him. He could tell she was itching for him to question "Really? Why?" and open up the conversation to be about her. That was a woman thing after all. Small talk was awkward, and difficult enough, let alone when it was focused on someone else.

Yet Annabelle carried on blithely even when he didn't take the bait. "I tried a journey once. When I was about, maybe twelve or thirteen? I didn't get too far, I'll be honest. Got four months in and I rang my Dad crying and demanding to be brought home."

This time, he couldn't help himself. "What happened?"

"Let's just say, don't get in the way of an angry Mama Miltank and her babies." She giggled. "Man, when Dad finally found me he was so mad. Paying for all the licensing and my first Pokemon then I just packed it all in, especially when I spent so long bugging him for one in the first place. I think he was quite glad when I went back to school and got a normal-person-job."

"And then you went and opened a Breeders after all that anyway?"

"What can I say? It's what I love to do. Besides, by that point, I was paying for it myself. I wasn't using my Dad's money anymore."

"He must have had quite a pretty penny to get Dusty all the way over from Hoenn."

Annabelle had gone strangely quiet. For a moment, he wondered if she had fallen asleep. He debated leaving her be. Any opportunity to _not _talk, after all. But he knew better – nobody could fall asleep quite that fast.

"Annabelle?"

"Hm? Oh, s-sorry… What did you say?"

"Dusty. It must have cost a shitton to get a Hoenn Pokemon all the way to Johto."

"Dusty… wasn't my first Pokemon."

"He wasn't?"

"No. I had a Stantler."

"A Stantler? That's unusual for a starter." Paul's mind began ticking over at the mention of such an obscure Pokemon. "Sure, I mean, between Sawsbuck and Girafarig, it's pretty much outclassed, but still pretty good. Especially for a starter Pokemon. Where the hell is it? Back with your parents?"

"No." Annabelle's voice sounded thick. "I… I lost it."

"You _lost _a Stantler? Did it run away?"

"Oh, Arceus, Paul!" she cried out. "Do I have to spell it out for you? She _died_."

"…oh. Oh, shit…"

"Yeah…" Annabelle sniffed, furiously wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. "Must be… what? Four years ago?"

"How did it…?"

"She got poisoned. Some assholes laced some Pokemon food with venom extracted from an Arbok fang. No-one knew why. And by the time the nurses got to her… it was just too late…"

"Shit, Annabelle…"

"Sorry…" she was sniffing furiously now, like it was the last line of defence against a complete outpour of emotion.

"Shit, no, don't be sorry. It's a horrible thing. Can… can I do anything?"

"It was four years ago. There's nothing you can do about it now."

"I know, but… Ugh, God, I'm a man, Annabelle. I don't know how to deal with this shit."

She made a noise that Paul couldn't tell whether it was a laugh or a cry.

"A bad thing happened and it's upsetting. So you can cry if you need to. Hell, cry all night if you want. It's not like I'm gonna care." Shit. That came out wrong. "Ugh, I mean, I don't _mind. _Mind. I won't exactly like not getting asleep because of you crying but…"

He had to stop. He was making it worse. But on the plus side, Annabelle was laughing now. "It's alright. I don't need to cry all night. I'm okay now."

"Yeah… well, good. That's… good." Paul said gruffly.

"We should get to sleep. We've got a long day ahead of us."

"Yeah. That would probably be wise."

Both of them lay back into their pillows and were still. Just as Annabelle's eyes closed, Paul spoke up again.

"Did they ever catch the bastards who did it?"

"…no. They never did. There was never enough evidence to pin it down. But I'll tell you something…"

"What?"

"If I ever find the people responsible, they will have a _lot _to answer for." Her voice was laced with an ominous finality that made Paul wonder exactly _what _she could do to them.

Faced with nothing else to say or do, he uttered "Goodnight Annabelle" into the darkness.

"Goodnight, Paul."

And silence fell.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hey everyone! Me again!**

**A shorter chapter once again, apologies for the dialogue heavy section at the end. I'll be honest, that part happened very organically and yeah, I enjoyed it, so it stayed in. **

**I am very excited for the next little arc I'll be introducing - which involves several Pokemon eggs - on the journey onwards to Goldenrod City. **

**I am ALSO very excited to announce I'm going to be working on a new Pokemon fanfiction. This is going to be a collaboration with my lovely best friend The Neverending Meep, which will be published under my screen name. As of now, the project is untitled and only has the beginning of the first chapter written but I'll be putting more information on the "My Stories" section of my profile within the next few days. **

**Massive thanks, as always, to everyone who has taken the time to read and review. **

**Stay lovely, everyone. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint and I'll see you on the next one. **


	12. Fright Night

**Chapter Twelve  
Fright Night**

Paul's only reaction to Route 36 was that it was busy. Too busy. Much too busy for what he remembered as nothing more than a strip of road framed by a series of trees. Paul just watched blankly as gaggles of trainers sped up and down the paved road, laughing and jostling. He felt his mood sour. It was too early for this shit. Why were people in such insufferably good moods at this time of the morning?

Seeing his grumpy face, Annabelle once again adopted her 'tour guide' persona. "A lot of trainers use this Route as a trading or meeting point." She explained. "It's pretty much ideal for it. Nearly every trainer uses Route 36 at some point to get to Goldenrod, and Violet is a big hub in its own right. There's good opportunities to trade rare or unusual Pokemon. Don't get any ideas," she added, spying Paul's hopeful look. "People here will either be too far out of your league or will have stuff considered even _worse _than Ledyba."

"Typical." Paul muttered.

He readjusted the straps of his bags, desperate to relocate some of the pain on his shoulders. Before leaving, Annabelle had insisted on Paul parting with a chunk of cash for his own tent, some proper outdoor clothing and a stash of high energy, low maintenance food for the roads between Pokemon Centres. And it was heavy. It felt like he was shouldering a bag of boulders instead of what boiled down to just a pop up tent and a few clothes.

"I think Goldenrod is about a week, maybe a week and a half away?" Annabelle was talking and Paul zoned back in to reality just in time. "We'll get to Route 35 in a few days, then it's a really long stretch down to Goldenrod. Course if you want to stop off at National Park, it'll be a bit longer."

"National Park? What's that?"

"It's just a big park between Routes 35 and 36. Bug-catching contests are held there. Don't you remember that from your precious games?" she added with a snarky grin.

"Never bothered much with Bug Catching contests. And even I can't remember every little detail. I'm not a freak."

"Hm," Annabelle shrugged. "Suppose not."

Initial annoyance aside, Paul was finding himself oddly fascinated by the comings and goings of the trainers along the Route. Everybody was on foot, travelling either in big, encroaching groups or side-by-side with a Pokemon. Every now and then, groups would mingle and merge, briefly exchange in trades or battles, then split apart again and be on their separate ways.

A thought struck him. "We're not likely to get… challenged out here, are we?"

Annabelle chuckled. "Don't worry. You can make eye contact with people. Trainers don't just pounce on other trainers and demand battles. Well, not usually. People _do_ have manners for the most part. They'll normally just ask or find other ways to communicate that they're actively seeking opponents."

"Such as?"

"Differs from trainer to trainer. Some routes even have bits cornered off for trainers to go to for battles. Heck, I've even seen trainers running around with signs saying "Will battle" or "Challenge me". Trust me, if someone wants to battle, you'll generally know about it."

Day dulled and night drew in quickly with an unseasonal chilly wind that made them both shiver. Thinking it unwise to travel any further if the weather turned nasty, Annabelle chose a spot to camp on a flat, grassy plain peppered with flowers and framed with protective trees. As the night grew colder and darker, and many hours were wasted wrestling with Paul's new tent, other trainers moved in and pitched up.

There must have been twenty or thirty others squashed into the clearing Annabelle chose. Half a dozen campfires sprang up, some roaring too fiercely to be safe in the strengthening winds. Amidst the chatter and crackling of dried wood, Paul and Annabelle ate in silence. They huddled close to their own meagre fire, the embers in danger of being extinguished with an errant gust.

"Why are all these people here?" Paul glowered as a stranger from another campsite walked straight in front of them, his Psyduck waddling after him. The fire flickered dangerously in his wake. "And don't they have any concept of personal space?"

"Safety in numbers, really." Annabelle stretched her skinny legs out and shivered as another breath of wind blew past. "And let's face it. A good camping spot like this is going to be popular. Whether we like it or not…" she added, barely shielding her annoyance as two teenage girls ran screaming with laughter behind their tents.

Paul snorted. "This is gonna be a long night, isn't it?"

"We'll wait till they go to sleep. Shouldn't be too much longer," Annabelle said, tossing Paul the last of her packet of crisps.

"I hope so." Paul said, cramming the last handful into his mouth.

Annabelle's hopes fell flat. Three hours later, the other campsites were still going strong. Undeterred by the cold, or even the threat of rain hovering over their heads, a party of six trainers were becoming rowdier by the minute. With their campfire in danger of roaring completely out of control, the trainers - hyper on endless cans of energy juice and what Paul heartily suspected as a bottle of vodka stashed in a nearby bush – had somehow connected their Pokegears to a local radio station and were blasting cheesy pop music at the loudest volume possible.

"Can't we go and tell them to shut the hell up?" Paul asked for what was probably the twentieth time.

"There is seriously no point. No point." Annabelle stifled a yawn. "They'll get tired. Eventually… I hope."

"Hopefully before my foot goes up their arse…" Paul glowered and Annabelle let out a crazed guffaw that likely Paul attributed more to exhaustion and delirium than any witticism on his part.

Annabelle gave up shortly before 1am. She crawled into her patterned tent, trying to ignore the lingering noise and hilarity, and there was no further movement from her. Paul had gone past the point of tiredness and stayed rooted in the same position, staring at the charred bones of the fire, and hoped nobody would try to talk to him.

Calm finally descended just shy of half two in the morning. As everything fell into awkward silence, broken only by the deep rumbling of someone snoring, Paul pulled his stiff new jacket further around him and contemplated.

Night-time out here was disorienting. On his many all-nighters, he had never really acknowledged the passing of time – never saw it as _night, _just an extension of the daytime hours. But out here there was no escaping it. No escaping the darkness, the mystery, the suspicion that the dark shape in the background was something _other _than shadows or rocks. He took a deep breath in, the icy air searing his lungs, and tried to steady his nerves. The fear was in his blood.

He thought about going back to his tent. But it was cramped and uncomfortable and still smelled of the dusty department store he had bought it from. And any movement would no doubt wake many of the slumbering campers around him.

He pulled Ledyba's Pokeball from the pocket of his jeans and, holding his breath, popped the button on the capsule. The Pokemon came out, already sleeping, and Paul sighed.

He poked the bug. Then again, this time harder. Then again. The bug shifted, just slightly, and let out a loud snore. Paul dropped his head into his spare hand. Typical he was stuck with a Pokemon that preferred sleep to literally everything else.

Then, he heard a noise.

Goosebumps burst over his skin. He slowly lifted his head up to face the murk of the night. He listened, at first only detecting his own breath coming in haggard gasps. Then, he heard it again. A rustling, like something moving through the grass ahead of them.

He poked Ledyba again.

A few minutes passed and all was still and quiet. Paul felt himself relax. He must have imagined it.

At the corner of his eye, he glimpsed movement. Something standing stock-still and hulking several feet away. He heard a voice. Or perhaps just the suggestion of one, distant, like a gust of wind carrying faraway conversation.

He shook Ledyba and the Pokemon woke up squeaking. "Shush, shush, shush!" Paul hissed, pushing himself to his shaky feet. "There's something out there!"

A glimpse of light within the inky black. Paul squeezed Ledyba so tightly the Pokemon squealed. He looked around in panic, his heart hammering, wondering if he should wake someone. But there was nobody there to wake.

Suddenly, he was ensconced in blazing white light. Not even shielding his face with his hands helped. Ledyba fell to the ground, landing on his back, and flailed uselessly.

"Who's there?"

The light faded as quickly as it came and Paul came face to face with a man. And a stern looking Vileplume.

"Easy, man. Night patrolman on duty." He flashed some sort of badge that Paul couldn't quite discern in the limited light. The Vileplume puffed itself up, showing a similar badge somehow stuck to the front of its body.

"Night patrolman?" Paul frowned.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of night patrolmen?"

"Buddy, apparently what I haven't heard of in this godforsaken community could fill a book." Paul grumbled.

"Right…" The night patrolmen said. "New trainer, I take it?"

"Very new."

"Right. Well, basically we're just… Hm. Think of us like security guards. Basically we wander around routes that a lot of trainers camp out by and just watch out for any trouble between Pokemon trainers or wild Pokemon."

"Huh. Well, where were you a few hours earlier?"

"Sorry?"

Paul threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the campsite. "We had a bunch of trainers set up camp right next to us. You know, they didn't even ask, they just shoved their way in and set up. They were screaming and playing music all night and me and my… travelling companion couldn't sleep for ages."

The night patrolman frowned, plucking out a notebook from his messenger bag. "I take it you mean the lot that have all the rubbish strewn all over the camp?"

"That's the ones."

"Well, we're not exactly anti-social behaviour officers, but I'll see what I can do in the morning, okay? At the very least, leaving food and litter around could attract wild Pokemon."

"Plume! Vile! Vile! Vile!" The Vileplume nodded in agreement.

Ledyba, who had somehow pivoted himself back on his feet, swept up to the Vileplume and squared up to it. "Le! Le! Ledyba!"

"Ledyba, pack that in…" Paul hissed.

"Le…" Ledyba sounded disappointed.

"Right," the night patrolman finished what he was jotting down in his notebook. "You should get some rest. We'll swing by in the morning. Won't do you to have no sleep by the time you move on."

"Yeah. Thanks, dude."

After circling the campsite and noting a few more things down, the night patrolman and his Vileplume disappeared from sight, leaving Paul and a rather confused Ledyba in their stead.

"This has been such a weird night…" Paul remarked to himself. He felt tired now, his whole body heavy and tingling with exhaustion. "Come on Ledyba. Let's get some sleep."

Ledyba looked quizzical as Paul clambered into the tent. Paul poked his head out when the Pokemon made no movement. "Are you coming in or not?"

"Le! Ledyba!" Ledyba squeaked, darting into the tent so quickly he almost slammed straight into his trainer.

"Jeez…" Paul muttered, shutting the tent flap. "I've never known a Pokemon so eager to _sleep _of all things,"

The Ledyba was already curled up in the centre of Paul's bedclothes and he had to brush him aside before he could lie down on the hard ground. Shuffling about, trying to find any position that was even vaguely comfortable, he checked the time. Nearly 4am. It would be morning before he knew it. He shut his eyes against it all and waited for sleep to take him.

.-.-.

"Paul! Paul, wake up!"

He felt like he had only just shut his eyes when the entire of the tent started shaking like he was in the middle of an earthquake zone. An earthquake zone named Annabelle. Rolling over, still in the safe, warm clutches of sleep, he wondered if he could safely ignore her.

"Paul! Wake up!"

No chance. Not while she was doing her best impression of a foghorn.

"What? What is it?" he blearily stumbled out of the tent, Ledyba attached to the top of his head, still asleep.

"Look," She had her hand over her mouth, trying to suppress giggles, as three patrolmen in identical uniforms swept through the troublemakers' campsite.

"You have to move along now. Come on, rise and shine, rise and shine. Move along. We had a number of complaints last night about noise and breach of the peace. Move along, please, move along. This area needs to be cleared of rubbish before it attracts any wild Pokemon. Move _along, _please."

The troublemaking trainers were groaning in pain and frustration, but did not argue with the patrolmen shepherding them away. Perhaps it was tiredness. Perhaps it was resignation in the face of authority. Or perhaps it had more to do with the presence of the Growlithe and Houndour tagging along with them.

Paul caught the eye of the night patrolman he had been talking to last night. The patrolman raised his hand and flashed a grin as the last of the troublemaking trainers staggered away. Paul smiled and stuck his thumb up.

The other patrolmen went to work on the burned out campfires and rubbish that was strewn around. The one Paul had been talking to passed by with his Houndour and smiled. "Feel free to stay as long as you like, folks." He said with a wink.

He didn't even get a chance to step away before Annabelle turned to Paul. "Paul, did you have something to do with this?"

She didn't look angry. She was still dressed in pyjamas, long, powder blue trousers and a fluffy fleece with a hood sporting Cubchoo ears. Her face was heavy with tiredness, her eyes puffy with sleep and framed with red, but she had a short little smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Paul just smiled and put a finger to his lips.

"Hah!" Annabelle let out a burst of laughter. "Oh man, that is wonderful! Great! Well, if that's the case, then I'm going back to bed for a bit."

"Annabelle, that's the smartest thing you've ever said." Paul laughed, ducking back into his tent, Ledyba still clinging onto his hair.

After a few hours of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep, they were up and on the move again. Annabelle cooked lunch over a tiny stove – eggs and bacon served with bread and lashings of butter – and Paul ate greedily, like he'd been starving for months.

The route had thinned out; they were only passing trainers every twenty minutes or so. The extra hours of sleep had done wonders for Annabelle and she was bouncing along the trail, nattering away to herself, the Pokemon walking by her side, and Paul, when he bothered to listen.

"You know, I've never actually even seen a Sudowoodo here." She chattered. "I know it's like the only reason ever to go near this route in the games, but I've never seen one. I'm almost convinced they're just an urban legend!"

Paul murmured noncommittally, watching Ledyba chase Dusty the Shroomish right into the bottom of a tree.

"When I was on my own journey, I got lost on this route a few times, you know. I was going up and down, up and down, for about a week trying to find a Vulpix. Never got one."

"Oh?"

"Nope. I had Stantler for the first, what… two months? Then I traded a Hoothoot I had accidentally caught for my Abigail and Dusty was a complete and utter stroke of luck. A swarm of Shroomish had escaped from the Johto safari zone and I came across one."

"And that's all the Pokemon you've ever caught?"

"Yup!" She didn't seem ashamed of this, just spoke matter-of-factly. "When I opened the Little Stars, like I told you, I ended up getting loans of Pokemon to get eggs to breed. They were never actually _mine._"

"Wouldn't that be… difficult? Trying to work with Pokemon that weren't actually yours?"

"Can be, yeah. But it's like anything else. You keep your head up and get on with it."

They continued their walk in silence. Flat ground was merging into grassy hillocks and it was difficult to walk and talk at the same time. Gnarled roots caught Paul's clumsy feet more than a few times. Bushes and some peculiar, feathery-tipped grass Paul had never seen before, which reached as tall as his shoulders, sprung up along the sides of the trail. The trees had grown thicker and larger, the branches stretching right across the horizon.

A chilly wind picked up and Annabelle stopped in her tracks.

Paul nearly walked into her stationary back. "What? What's wrong now?"

"Just… just shush a moment." Annabelle's breath was coming in short wheezes. "Look. Look up ahead."

Paul glanced around her shoulder and felt his heart twist.

Blood. Lots of blood. Splattered across the fronds of thick, leafy grass just to the left of them. Annabelle's hand found the crook of his arm.

"What is that?"

"Blood…" she murmured.

"I know _that_! But where… where has it come from?"

"I… I don't know." Her voice was a strangled whisper. "Abigail, Dusty. Please, be on your guard."

"Fletch!"

"Shrooom!"

Even the Pokemon were tense. Ledyba, picking up on the shift in atmosphere, clung to Paul's leg.

Annabelle took a cautious step forward but Paul grabbed her elbow. "We should leave it alone." He urged. "What if it's dangerous?"

"What if it's not? What if it's something that's hurt? I have to at least… go and look."

She had left his side and was picking her way through the grass before he could even protest. Abigail and Dusty followed her. By his side, Ledyba squeaked in worry.

His limbs seized in protest. He did not want to follow her. The image of the blood, splattered like spilled ink, would not leave him alone. But he couldn't let her go alone. "Come on, man." He picked up Ledyba. "We need to go after her."

She had gone far into the bushes and he couldn't see her. Picking his way through the damaged grass she had left in her wake, he felt his body tremble and pressure form in his stomach. He swallowed and tasted bile. The burrs and exposed thorns scratched at his skin, making movement painful and difficult, but he pushed on.

When he emerged into a small clearing, his eyes instantly picked out the figure of a long, purple, serpentine Pokemon only a few feet away from where he and Annabelle stood. For a moment, he was transfixed, mainly at the sheer size of it. Never had he thought he could get this close to such a dangerous Pokemon before. Nor one this big. He had never imagined Ekans could grow to this size. Stretched out, it could have easily reached over two metres in length. Facing away from them, the head was bowed into the earth and its back was hunched, like a Meowth licking milk from a bowl. It still hadn't seen them.

Then, it jerked to the side and tore something with its teeth.

And he saw more blood.

He swore. Partly from fright and partly because there was nothing else he could do.

The creature turned around, its head still low. Something dead was hanging firmly between its mammoth jaws. Paul fought the urge to gag. The Ekans bit down on the dead thing and blood sputtered out, splattering the grass around them.

"No!" He heard Annabelle scream. "Abigail, chase it off! Chase it off!"

Flames erupted from somewhere behind them. Paul saw nothing more; his stomach betrayed him and its contents found themselves sprayed all over the ground.

The Ekans hesitated in face of the assault, unwilling to part with its meal, but another burst of flames from the Fletchling sent it scurrying back into the undergrowth.

Annabelle took some shaky steps forward and saw what she hoped she wouldn't. A horrifying uncoiling of flesh – she saw bone, silvery intestines and chunks of blood. She could not even identify the species.

She left the half-eaten dead creature and followed the path the Ekans had taken. A wind blew cold into her face and made breathing difficult. Her gaze fell downwards as her foot nudged something hard and solid at the edge of the grass.

Paul was still throwing up the last dregs of his lunch when she returned to the clearing. "Paul, please… you have to come and help me."

Paul looked up, ashen and pale. "W…what?"

"I… I found eggs."

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Well... this chapter turned out a little more gory than I thought it would. **

**I quite enjoyed writing something a little darker and more realistic. It was a nice change of pace. Sorry to anyone who found this a little too much xP **

**Nothing really new with me here. Back to work this coming Monday and I'll try really hard to get another chapter out for you soon. And possibly publish the new story The Neverending Meep and I are collaborating on. But especially the new chapter as we explore the arc with the eggs Annabelle finds. Anyone want to hazard a guess what Pokemon they are? It's not going to be revealed until the eggs actually hatch. **

**See you on the next one, guys! Hope you all enjoy!**


	13. Shellshock

**Chapter Thirteen  
Shellshock **

Paul retched, bringing up the last chunks of partially digested food. He straightened his back and stood on quivering legs. "You found what…?"

"Eggs! Quick, quick, come with me!"

"Oh God, Annabelle, do I have to…?"

He followed her dutifully all the same through the clearing. By the time his shaking legs allowed him to catch up with her, Annabelle was knelt down by the side of the grass, shuffling through something. Staggering across to her, he set his gaze downward and saw three sandy-coloured eggs partially obscured by the grass and remains of a nest. Annabelle was trying in vain to scoop up all three in her arms, but they were huge, much bigger than Paul had expected Pokemon eggs to be, and she couldn't keep a steady grip without risk of damaging them.

"Here, here, here," Paul interjected his clumsy arms across her and awkwardly grabbed one of them.

"Thank you," Annabelle said breathily, holding the other two eggs close to her chest. "Come on. Move, quickly, before that Ekans comes back!"

"Do I really have to run…?" Paul grumbled, still feeling his stomach twist. The scent of blood, harsh and metallic, was still strong.

"Just move! And be _careful_!"

They fled the clearing, flanked on all sides by the Fletchling, Ledyba and Shroomish. Annabelle was panicked, her head darting this way and that, searching for a safe place away from the tall grass. Eventually, she found a spot that was wide and open, with a perfect 360 degree vantage. Satisfied, she dropped to her knees, whistled for Abigail and began haphazardly shoving sticks and grass into a pile.

"What are you doing?" Paul panted.

"Building a fire!" Annabelle cried. "These eggs are ice cold. We need to get them warm, and quick. Body heat won't cut it!"

Paul pressed his hand firmly against the hard shell. It was cold – his fingers chilled by a few minutes of contact.

On Annabelle's instructions, Abigail spat a small flame into the pile of dry grass and twigs and fire crackled into life, hungrily spreading and encroaching the branches. Annabelle scooped up the eggs again and shuffled closer to the fire, so close that her loose hair and bare skin were in danger of being set alight as well. When Paul hesitated, she quickly motioned for him to do the same.

"Calm down, Annabelle." He urged her, yet obediently moved his egg closer to the slight warmth.

"I can't calm down." She replied instantly, her eyes wide and wild. She hugged the eggs even closer to her. "Oh God, they're still frozen…" she murmured. After a moment, she zipped open her hooded jumper, hauled up her top and pressed the eggs against her bare skin. She winced and swore under her breath, pulling her shirt down over them again.

She caught Paul's eye and offered him an embarrassed half smile. "Body heat. It's the best thing until the fire gets going."

Paul cradled the heavy egg and pulled part of his jacket further around it. He could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. He wanted to talk, to give voice and words to the horrors he had just seen. But the words were stuck in his throat and he worried he would choke on them if he tried to force them out.

Minutes passed. The fire spat and crackled and belched out a plume of thick, grey smoke. Then Annabelle broke her silence by letting out a cry of relief, and Paul noticed for the first time that her eyes looked suspiciously like they were watering.

"I... I can feel something moving…!" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Paul, there's something moving in these eggs. Oh thank God… They're alive. They're actually alive! Is… is there something moving in yours?"

Paul put his hand to the egg. "I... can't tell." He said truthfully.

"Pass it here." Annabelle's long fingers sought the egg against Paul's chest. She frowned for a moment, her fingers shifting around like she was a medic searching for a pulse. After a minute, however, her face relaxed. "There. It's there. It's very faint, but it's there. You've _got _to keep it warm, Paul. It's the only thing that'll keep it alive."

"I will, I will, don't worry." Paul nodded. "Do you know what type of eggs they are?"

"Probably the eggs of whatever poor thing the Ekans killed." Annabelle said sadly and Paul felt another a rise of bile inch its way up its throat. She craned her neck over to the egg Paul was holding. "I honestly can't tell what species it is."

"All Pokemon eggs are this brown colour, then? I thought they were all like pale with those green spots you get in-game."

"What? No, not at all." Annabelle managed a chuckle. "Eggs aren't all the same. They'd get mixed up otherwise. Most species have a distinct egg pattern."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Like Ledyba. It's got a reddy-orange shell with black spots."

"Makes sense."

"Ironically, these eggs are so… for lack of a better word… bland, it's really tough to identify them. There are a _lot _of brown eggs."

"I suppose we'll have to wait until they hatch then."

Annabelle took in a deep breath and expelled it. "Yeah… I hope so."

"Something wrong?"

"I'm just worried. I've no idea how long they've been left by themselves. I know they don't look damaged in any way, but I'm still worried the Ekans tried to crack them open. And then there's the obvious question…"

"Oh?"

"What if there were more eggs? Ones the Ekans already got to?"

"Y-yeah…" he muttered. He had a horrible vision of the purple demon, slithering through the grassy fronds undetected, to swallow up and gobble down the unsuspecting eggs. Lives over before they even began.

He thought of the unidentified Pokemon. The mother of the eggs. Did she fight to protect her babies? Was she killed before she even knew there was a threat? Did she have to watch while her eggs were swallowed down? Paul shivered and clutched the egg closer to his body. All of a sudden, he felt very alone.

Annabelle offered Paul a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"Uh… not really…"

"I understand." She said softly. "First time you've seen a dead Pokemon, I assume?"

"Not the _first. _I've seen Miltank cut for slaughter and the occasional dead Rattata the neighbour Meowth would kill. But nothing so… visceral."

"Visceral, huh? That's… one word for it." She said with a sad smile. "I've seen it. A lot. You see a lot of death in this business. So much more than anyone would like you to believe. And of course Pokemon kill other Pokemon for food. Circle of life and all that. I just wish we didn't have to see it."

"Me too. I really wish I didn't have to see that."

"I'm sorry, Paul. I'd come and give you a hug, but… yeah. Eggs." She giggled, gesturing to the eggs under her shirt. "On the other hand, it looks like I've got massive boobs under here."

Paul snorted. "You're crazy."

"I know." Annabelle softened. "You have to be. You have to sort of see the funny side, even if it's really hard to find one. You really would go crazy if you didn't. Otherwise you would think about every 'what if' in existence. What if I got there sooner? What if there was something I could have done? What if I could have saved the mother, the other eggs?" she let out a fierce sniff and rubbed her eyes. "You'd… you'd seriously drive yourself crazy thinking about it."

"Well… just try not to, yeah? Maybe we should just focus on the fact we've got these three."

"You're right, you're right." Annabelle nodded her head firmly. "As long as we keep them warm, we should be alright. They should be alright." She paused before adding. "You'll need to help me, though. I can't take care of all three by myself. A-and it does mean delaying our journey by at least a day until I can get these eggs in proper shape."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

Perhaps it was lingering effects of the trauma, but Paul found himself nodding. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

"Thank you…" Annabelle let out a breath of relief and wrapped her arms further around the eggs under her shirt. "You know, it's been a while since I had eggs to take care of. It's almost a relief after everything that's gone on."

Abigail the Fletchling hopped onto Annabelle's lap and nestled up against her chest, and Annabelle let out a contented sigh. Paul felt a slight shift under the hardened shell of the egg and a memory returned to him from long ago. His mother, heavily pregnant with his sister, and his young, naïve self, feeling the flutter of life underneath her heaving belly.

"So, will it ever be safe to travel with them?"

"Of course. So long as we're careful. Lots of trainers, and breeders, carry eggs around. They often don't have a choice. I just want to delay any moving about until I'm one-hundred-percent certain there hasn't been any lasting damage to the eggs. I don't even know how close these are to hatching. I'll need to look at them properly once they're fully warmed up."

"So, the whole "takes a certain number of steps to hatch an egg" thing. That's bullshit as well, huh?"

Annabelle chuckled. "You're learning quickly."

Paul felt a slight smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Then Annabelle briskly became official again. Conversation was evidently over, and she began a relentless tirade of ordering Paul to make the egg warmer, closer to the fire, closer to his skin.

As the day and night progressed, Annabelle didn't let the eggs out of her sight, rebuilding the fire every time it looked in danger of dying down even a little, to the point he and Annabelle were sweating from the heat.

When she was eventually satisfied they were warm enough, she lay them down in a straight line and stood over them with a notepad and pen she had unearthed from her bag. Paul dared to look over her shoulder and saw her writing down a lot of numbers and figures in her long, italic scrawl.

"_Egg 1: approx. 0.4m long. Weight: approx. 5kg. _

_Movement: Sporadic. _

_Notable features: Brown shell unharmed. Responded well to warmth. _

_Egg 2: Approx 0.4m long. Weight: approx. 6kg. _

_Movement: Constant. _

_Notable features: Hairline fracture to the frontal area. Found to be quite sandy. Again, responded well to warmth. _

_Egg 3: Approx 0.4m long. Weight: approx. 4kg. _

_Movement: Infrequent. _

_Notable features: Much smaller and quieter than the other eggs. Possible cause for concern – although potential runt of the litter. Not responding as well to warmth."_

He couldn't read any further as Annabelle batted him away and told him if he wanted to do something _useful, _to put more wood on the fire.

As he hauled the dry branches onto the pit to be swallowed up by the jaws of the fire, he glanced across at the smallest of the three eggs. Annabelle had written "cause for concern" in her notes. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He wanted to ask Annabelle if the egg would be okay. It had to be, didn't it? It was safe now. It was warm. There wasn't anything wrong with it other than it was a bit small. Whatever was inside it wasn't going to die, right? It would seem unforgivably unfair for the eggs to survive such a vicious attack for them to die now.

He didn't dare ask Annabelle. At first, he told himself it was because he didn't want to upset her further. But she was carrying out her work with a professionalism that, at least for the moment, seemed immune to the potential darkness lingering around the corner. Perhaps, he considered, he wasn't reluctant to ask for _her _benefit at all.

Eventually, Annabelle closed her notebook with a snap and brought an end to the uncomfortable silence. It was dark now and they ate a meal in silence. Too tired to set up the tents and with it an already uncomfortable muggy night, they rolled sheets and pillows straight out onto the grass.

Annabelle pulled the eggs right under the covers with her, only to be joined by Abigail a moment later. She did not complain even once, even though Paul knew she would have been sweltering with the heat. He even swore he heard her talking in a hushed voice to the eggs under the sheets.

"You really like taking care of eggs, huh?" Paul asked her as they lay under the cover of starlight.

"Course I do. I mean, aside from it being my job, each little egg is a whole new life inside it. There's so much potential. Just like with kids, I guess."

"You ever _wanted _kids?"

Annabelle let out a nervous giggle. "Paul, what kind of question is that?"

"A sincere one?"

"Fair enough, fair enough. Uh… I don't know. I mean, I _love _kids. You have to, I guess, to do the sort of jobs I've done. But I think I'd have to be in the right sort of relationship for one. And I haven't had all that much experience with good relationships."

She noticed him staring expectantly. "Well, there was my first when I was about sixteen. I remember I was a bit of a late bloomer. All my friends had had boyfriends long before that. But it never really went anywhere. I don't think I even dated him for a couple of months. Wanted different things, really. I wanted the whole first love, romance, candlelight and roses stuff."

"And him?"

"He wanted to break up!" Annabelle snorted at her own joke. "And after that, there was Charlie."

"Charlie, huh?"

"Yep. God, she was fun."

"Wait, what? She?" Paul stammered, but it was lost as Annabelle carried on blithely, and finished her story with a short sigh.

"And ever since then I've not really been looking. I don't really need to. Long as I've got my Pokemon and my little business and a few friends here and there, I'm a happy enough girl."

Paul didn't know what to say so simply nodded his head.

Noticing the dip in conversation, Annabelle pulled her covers further around herself, Abigail and the three eggs and shuffled around until she got more comfortable. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."

Deciding not to argue with her and still reeling from the events of the day, Paul shut his eyes against it all and allowed sleep to take him away.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hi guys! Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out; I've been crazy with work and other responsibilities. **

**This chapter is a bit shorter than I wanted and I apologise for that; there's only so much you can expand on things and I needed to keep the next scene separate as a lot goes down. **

**So much thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed - especially those who reviewed after I had been quiet for a while. It gave me a lot of motivation to keep going. **

**I'll see you guys on the next one. Thanks for reading!**


	14. Fracture

**Chapter Fourteen  
Fracture**

Half-dead things tumbled through his sleep. He dreamed he was stuck in the midst of a storm where blood fell like rain. He held his hands out and drops stained and slipped through his outstretched fingers, and then they blew away in the blustery wind. And then, the sound of someone sobbing. Curiously, it did not die away when his mind roused itself back into consciousness.

He opened his eyes and was met with an empty camp. Annabelle's sleeping bag was empty and the last embers of the fire were smouldering in the pit. His mouth ran dry.

It took him a few minutes to locate Annabelle. She had her back to him at the edge of the clearing, sat down and bent over, completely unmoving. As he got closer, he spotted two of the three sandy brown eggs lying propped up on their sides, surrounded by sheets of paper, and under the careful eye of Abigail. The third egg, the smallest of the three, the one Paul had held to his chest last night, was nowhere to be seen.

Paul found it difficult to breathe. Like a pillow had been stuffed over his mouth and nose. The noise from before had stopped and he wondered if perhaps he had imagined it. But when he knelt down near to Annabelle, she stiffened and turned further away.

"What's… wrong?" he asked uncertainly.

Annabelle took in a deep, juddering breath. When she eventually spoke, her voice was coarse and croaky. "One… of… one of the eggs… didn't make it."

"Didn't what…?" He craned his neck to see the egg in Annabelle's hands, feeing his heart thud desperately against his ribcage. "You're sure?"

"Oh, Paul, I've been up since six this morning sitting with it! I haven't felt _any _movement. It went cold three hours ago and ever since then… nothing. F-for Arceus's sake, I know what I'm talking about. I've…. I've dealt with this so many times… I just… know."

Finally, she allowed her arms to droop and Paul saw the egg in her hands. It looked so pale and small, even Annabelle's delicate fingers dwarfed it. Her face was red, crusted with tears.

"Why…why didn't you wake me up?"

"What use would it have been?" Annabelle twitched her shoulders in the tiniest of shrugs. "There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing… _I _could have done." Her voice was wavering, in danger of breaking entirely.

"Still… you should have woken me. It's better than you sitting here upset."

"I'm… I'm not upset." Annabelle said thickly.

"Annabelle, I know I'm stupid when it comes to this shit, but I'm not _that _stupid." He patted her roughly on the shoulder.

Annabelle sniffed furiously. "It is… it is _sad_, I know. But I'm trying not to be. A-after what happened to the mother and the other eggs, I was p-pretty sure _something _like this could have happened. A-and there's two other eggs to take care of. I-it's just life. And l-life goes on."

"Sure it does. But that doesn't mean you can't be sad about it."

Annabelle's shoulders began trembling fiercely and she pulled the egg closer to her chest. "I'm… I'm so sorry…" she whispered to the eggshell. "I'm… I'm just so sorry…!"

As Annabelle sobbed, Paul draped his arms awkwardly around her in his best impression of a hug. She flinched at the touch but after a few moments, Paul felt her entire body relax against him. Fresh tears came spilling out from her already swollen eyes and the sobs wracking her body became more violent.

He had no idea how long he held her, allowing her to release what was likely hours of pent-up grief. He had never been good at this. Tears – women's in particular – were alien to him. What were you supposed to say? What were you supposed to do? His meagre attempts at comfort often made it worse. But now, he sort of understood. There wasn't anything he could do or say and there was no use pretending that he could. Annabelle didn't need that. She didn't need words or actions. She just needed to let it out.

It felt like hours before she eventually stilled. When her weeping eased and her breathing regulated, she stepped back from him. He allowed her a few moments before gently reminding her of the two other eggs still in need of her care.

With her help, Paul dug a small hole in a patch of soft earth in the shade of a large tree. As he laid the cold egg inside and scattered the earth back on top, Annabelle once again turned her back. He wanted to mark the grave somehow – it was customary, wasn't it? Some kind of memorial; a stone, even an upright twig? He hunted around but found nothing. He supposed it was just as well – he didn't want anyone noticing a landmark and digging up the hole.

When Paul was done, he found Annabelle sitting in her sleeping bag with her knees under her chin, the two remaining eggs tucked against her chest and fresh tears leaking down her red cheeks. Paul felt a strange surge of pity. How many times had she seen this?

"Come on," he extended both hands for one of the eggs. "We should get going. There's no sense in hanging around here much longer, eh?"

"Yeah. You're right." Annabelle's voice was heavy, holding none of her usual cheer and enthusiasm. He wondered why he was looking for it – after something like this, why would anyone have any reason to smile?

Annabelle reached out and while Paul expected the cool, hard shell of the Pokemon egg to reach his fingertips, he felt a soft, warm hand entwine itself with his. The touch did not last long, she used him as a pivot to haul herself, and the two eggs, to her feet. Yet, the ghost of her lingered, even as they packed the campsite up, delegated an egg to each of them, and set out on the route towards Goldenrod City.

.-.-.

Traversing the last of Route 36 took the better part of three days. In excessive heat during the day and bitter cold at night, they trudged onwards through the constant sights of trees, grass, bushes, more grass and more trees. Eventually, Annabelle, overtired and desperate for a shower and a clean bed, made the executive decision to reroute them to the National Park – knowing there was a Pokemon Centre built into the popular establishment.

Paul dive-bombed his small bed as soon as Annabelle unlocked the door to their shared room. Kicking off his shoes, he wriggled his aching feet and let out a breath of relief, while Annabelle walked past him, pointedly holding her nose.

"Your feet stink, you know that?"

"You're not exactly pleasant to get downwind of either," Paul retorted without skipping a beat.

"Uh-huh." Annabelle carefully set the two sandy brown eggs down on her bed and gingerly sat herself beside them. "Finally…" she let out a breath. "Now that I'm not worrying about, y'know, getting eaten in our sleep or something, I can finally take some proper notes on these little guys. _Actual _proper measurements. Oh, I wonder if one of the nurses has some scales or a tape measure I can borrow…"

She was attempting to crudely measure the eggs now – using the length of her hand as a rough indicator. Even Paul could see the eggs looked different now – the one he had been carrying seemed to have doubled in weight over the past few days of carrying it. His aching arms were testament to that.

"So, why are you taking notes again?"

"Eh, it's just a thing breeders do. We monitor the movements, how the eggs get heavier and bigger as time goes on. It helps avoid… nasties. Like… you know…"

"I know. You don't have to say." Paul softened, feeling a pang of sadness strike within him, like the echo of a bell. "So… you still don't have any idea what's _in _those eggs, huh?"

"Not…really." Annabelle said carefully. "I have my _suspicions,_ but I'm not gonna say anything."

"What? Why not?"

"Well, what if I'm wrong?" Annabelle flustered. "This isn't my area of expertise – identifying Pokemon by egg alone is one of those things only really good breeders can do. And it's even harder with an egg that's so… bland."

"I guess." Paul rolled onto his back and stretched out. "Hey, wouldn't it be great if they turned out to be… I don't know, like an Eevee or something? Imagine what we could do with two Eevee!" he was already off in a daydream, showing off an expertly trained Umbreon and Sylveon to an envious Dest.

"Paul, your gamer boy is showing." Annabelle remarked primly, flipping to a new page in her notebook. "You might be glad if it was Eevee. I certainly wouldn't."

"…what? _Why_?"

"Do you have _any _idea the lengths people go to get Eevee? They're some of the most expensive Pokemon _to _breed. They're some of the hardest to _get _from a reputable breeder. _And_," she added gravely. "They're inbred. A lot."

"Inbred?"

"Yep. Think about it. You get a _lot _more male Eevee than female—"

"On a ratio of 87.5% compared to 12.5."

Annabelle blinked. "…yes? Uh… well anyway, a lot of people breed their female Eevee with any male Eevee they can get. And if that male Eevee happens to be its brother, its cousin, its nephew… well, it goes on, let me put it that way."

"Ew."

"Not just "ew", Paul." Annabelle sighed. "It causes a _lot _of problems. Physical impediments. Some have severe developmental delays. A lot just end up not being _able _to fight or enter contests. I mean, of course, proper breeders run family history checks when they do Eevee breeding, but a lot of the black market breeders don't."

"Wait, wait, wait. There's a black market on Eevee breeding?"

"Wake up, Paul. There's a black market on _breeding. _Period."

"Wow. That's… that's messed up."

"And it makes it even harder for breeders to do their jobs properly." Annabelle let out another exasperated sigh. "Arceus, even talking about it makes me angry. Why would people hurt Pokemon like that? Even it's just potentially harming them, why would you take that risk? For what? A Pokemon that's considered aesthetically 'better'? I just don't understand it."

"Mm." Paul muttered.

"Anyway." Annabelle closed her notebook with a snap. "Now that I've gotten some of these measurements down, I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Good idea. I think I'll go as well."

"No way, mister." Annabelle jabbed her finger at Paul. "You've gotta stay here and watch the eggs."

Paul glanced at the eggs sitting upright on Annabelle's bed. "Uh. I don't think they're _going _anywhere."

"No, you idiot! I didn't mean it like that! Someone needs to sit and watch them in case they hatch or something."

"I know, I know." Paul chuckled. "Don't worry, they'll be safe with me."

Annabelle looked at him reproachfully.

"Well, go on." Paul flapped his hands at her. "If you're going, go. Get it over with."

"Alright then." Annabelle tossed two Pokeballs forward, releasing Abigail and Dusty. "I'll leave these two with you. Abigail, you go sit on the eggs and keep them warm."

"Fletch!" Abigail cheeped and obediently settled herself down atop the two eggs. At this point, the eggs had grown so much that Abigail could barely cover them.

"And Dusty…" Annabelle rounded on her dopey looking Shroomish, who perked up and looked expectantly at his trainer. "Uh… just behave, okay?"

"…Shroom…" Dusty replied sadly.

"Do I have to behave too?" Paul asked, but was ignored as Annabelle grabbed her towels and disappeared out of the door with a slam.

Alone, Paul could think of nothing better to do at first than stare around the room. Dusty had taken to ramming his head against the frame of the door, as if he was trying to go straight _through _it, the moment it had shut behind Annabelle.

"There's something seriously wrong with that Pokemon." Paul muttered, fishing in the crusty pocket of his jeans for Ledyba's Pokeball. With a nonchalant toss, he released the Pokemon from its capsule.

"Ba! Ledy! Ledy!" Ledyba cried, waving his tiny arms up and down.

"I can't believe I'm looking to a Ledyba for decent company." Paul said to himself, whistling for the Ledyba to come up and sit beside him. The Pokemon dove onto his stomach, winding him in the process. There was a surprising amount of power behind the Pokemon's strike. The Ledyba did seem to be getting bigger and more powerful along with it – perhaps it was about time to start training the little bug again.

He plugged his phone into the outlet by the bed. It had lost charge days ago and he lay back, waiting for it to turn on. He shut his eyes and let out a long breath, savouring the feeling of warmth, softness and peace and quiet.

_Bzz bzz bzz_

Ugh. Text message.

Twisting his body and phone around to compensate for the abnormally short charging cable, he opened the message.

It was from Dest. No surprises there.

"_Dude. You alive?"_

Feeling slightly guilty, and with nothing else productive to do until Annabelle returned from the shower, he tapped out a reply.

_"__Course, man. How you been?"_

No sooner had he set the phone down, it buzzed again.

"_Pretty rad, bro. Where are you?"_

Typical Dest. He was always one to get right to the point.

"_National Park. On the way to Goldenrod."_

Another prompt reply.

_"__Sweet as, bro. You caught anything good?"_

Paul hesitated a few moments, deliberating whether he should just ignore the text or feign some sort of signal outage that prevented him from replying. However, knowing the reality he couldn't avoid this line of questioning forever, he tapped out a reply.

"_Few things here and there, man. Not telling though."_

He held his breath until the next message pinged through.

"_Aww man, typical. Master of secrecy and all. You suck._"

Paul relaxed again. He'd irritated Dest, that much was for sure, but at least he wasn't insistent. That could only be a good thing. Paul was in the middle of tapping out another reply when another pinged onto the screen.

"_You remember our appointment. Lake of Rage?"_

"_Course, man. I gotta go up to Cianwood first. But I'll be there."_

"_Cianwood? Dude, there's nothing up there. Why you going?"_

"_No real reason. Some chick I'm travelling with needs to get there."_

"_A chick?! Man, you lucky bastard! Is she hot? Tell me she's hot!"_

Paul felt his face redden.

"_Dude, why you asking me that?"_

"_Gotcha! That means she is! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"_

He was in the middle of typing out another message, something along the tongue-in-cheek line of "doesn't exactly limit me" when a sharp tap made him look up.

He was used to the strange cacophony of noises that came with travelling with three Pokemon and one eccentric breeder. Abigail often chirruped and cheeped to herself and had been known to screech at three in the morning for no apparent reason. Dusty's fondness for headbutting things came with the consequence of knocking things over. Those things were often loud. Ledyba was a clicker – Paul assumed it was part of the territory of being a bug. And Annabelle… God help him if he started on Annabelle. She was a heavy breather, for one, a habit which only intensified tenfold when she was asleep. She also enjoyed singing – sometimes snippets of songs under her breath and some right at the top of her lungs, even sometimes just nonsense words and gibbering to the vaguest of tunes. He supposed he could have learned to live with it – were Annabelle actually _good _at singing.

Noises were not unusual to him anymore. He felt like he was constantly plagued by bangs, clatters and clicks and as such, become so used to them that he barely registered them. But rather than any of the range of loud, obtrusive, downright irritating noises he had grown accustomed to, this new one was soft, almost hesitant.

_Tap!_

He sat upright, looking around the bedroom. Dusty was still bodily ramming himself against the doorframe. Abigail was asleep. Ledyba was curled up in a corner of his bed, playing with his own antennae. Everything else was silent – no matter how hard he strained his ears, he couldn't hear the noise again.

He lay back down and picked his phone up.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

A text buzzed into his phone.

"_Dude, are you still there?"_

Then he saw it. A tiny, hairline fracture sweeping across the centre of one of the sandy brown eggs.

"_Sorry, man. I gotta text you later."_

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hi guys! Me again. So a lot happens here. A sad beginning and an exciting ending. **

**Chapter still turned out slightly shorter than I would have liked. I didn't want to linger too long on the poor unlucky egg as I didn't want to overdo the sadness and stuff. If anything is likely to be edited in this story, it'll likely be this chapter, but yeah. For the most part, I'm happy enough with it. **

**Paul does seem to take sad things well, I know what you're thinking. There will be something of a payoff to all this as the story develops, so please stay tuned for that. **

**I'm gonna be focusing on getting the next chapter on my collab fic out next (if you haven't read it yet, please do take a look at Collision of Words on my profile, I'd really appreciate it) so I'll be with you guys hopefully in a week or so. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always! **


	15. Case Cracked

**Chapter Fifteen  
Case Cracked**

When Annabelle returned from the shower ten minutes later, hair still dripping wet around her shoulders, the last thing she expected to see was Paul, face-to-face with one of the eggs. No sooner had she stepped inside, Paul began motioning frantically to her.

"Come here, come here! God, I never thought you'd get here. Why do women take so long in the shower?"

"Chill your beans. What's happening?"

"It's hatching!"

"Wha? Hatching?" Annabelle dropped her wet towels to the floor and shouldered her way onto the bed with Paul. "Here, here, give me it…" she took the egg from Paul's hands and turned it over once in her palm. Her fingers found the tiny crack and she ran them across its length a few times. "When exactly did this happen?"

"I don't know, about five minutes after you left to shower?"

"And how much activity have you seen since you saw the crack?"

"Uh… It started tapping pretty loudly when the crack happened. I dunno, I think I'm still hearing taps every few minutes. It's difficult to tell…"

"Sounds like we're still in early stages then." Annabelle said with a relieved sigh, gently letting the egg back down onto the bed. "So long as nothing goes wrong, we should see it hatch before the end of the day."

"End of the day?" Paul repeated in surprise. "I thought these things hatched instantaneously? M-more or less?"

"Oh, don't be stupid. Does a woman have her first twinge of labour pain and then drop the baby five minutes later? Of course not. It can take hours. Days, even. I mean, I am a bit worried because I wasn't so sure this little guy was _ready _to hatch this soon, but hey. We're in a Pokemon Centre. If something goes wrong, we're in the best place equipped to handle it."

"You think something _will _go wrong?" Paul asked, nervously eyeing the egg as another sharp tap resonated from within.

"…no." Annabelle said after a moment's thought. "No," she said again, this time with more confidence. "I've seen hundreds of Pokemon born. I know what I'm doing. Even if the baby is a little premature, I can handle it."

"If you say so..."

"Listen, can you stay here with the egg?" Annabelle bounced to her feet. "I need to go downstairs and speak to Nurse Joy about getting some supplies for the hatching."

"Wha? Supplies?"

"You know, feeder tube, something to make hot water, towels. I wanna go now before we get too far gone with the hatching."

She was already halfway out the door before Paul could react. "Please take care of the egg while I'm gone, okay?"

As she closed the door, she heard an irate "Hurry up!" through the wood but didn't take any notice. She took in a quick breath and expelled it, steeling herself for the tasks ahead. Mentally running through a quick list of everything she needed, she jogged across the corridor and down the stairs into the main lobby.

The Nurse on-duty was being harangued by a gaggle of trainers that had all wandered in covered in blood and dirt, most likely the victims of a swarm in the National Park.

I don't have time for this, Annabelle thought in irritation. Was an egg hatching enough of an emergency that it would trump an entire group of injured trainers? Probably not. If there was a legitimate worry that the egg was going to be born premature, or there was a problem with the baby Pokemon, then yes, maybe she could be justified shoving her way to the front. But she was not a good liar – or a good actor – so she joined the end of the queue.

The group of trainers were eventually satisfied when the ever-patient nurse offered kind, sympathetic words, the promise of hot food and a hot shower, plus the keys to four rooms on the top floor. Also known as the quietest floor with easily the best rooms. When Annabelle reached the front of the key, she offered the tired-looking nurse a smile.

"Everything okay?"

"Oh my goodness, isn't that my job to ask _you _that?" the nurse trilled.

"Well, I figured I would. Those kids there seemed pretty… annoyed?"

"They somehow found a Scyther in National Park and got it really angry." The nurse laughed softly. "Oh, I shouldn't laugh but they thought a couple of Sunkern and a Qwilfish is enough to take one on."

"Pfft." Annabelle snorted. "That's hilarious."

"Well, anyway, what can I get you… Miss… Lawrence, isn't it? Annabelle Lawrence?"

"Wow, that's quite a memory." Annabelle said in awe. She had only ever signed her full name on the room paperwork and hadn't actually spoken it out loud.

"Oh, working here for so long, you pick up a lot." She said airily. "So, what can I do for you today?" she asked again, her voice a little firmer this time.

"…oh yeah!" Annabelle nodded. "Listen, I've got an egg that's due to hatch in the next… 12 hours or so, I think. I'm a certified breeder, by the way." She added when she spotted a slight hint of concern pass over the nurse's face. "I mean, I know it's not exactly PokeCentre protocol, but I was wondering if I could have a couple of extra towels, something to make hot water with and a feeding pipette? Assuming you _have _all these things here…"

"Oh, of course. We carry a lot of egg-care products. The nurses at this PokeCentre deal with a lot of eggs in the National Park, so that's not a problem."

"And it's okay for me to borrow them?"

"Well," the nurse hesitated. "Pokemon Centre regulations do require us to step in if we know of any trainers with eggs about to hatch, but if you're a trained breeder…"

"I have a breeder ID," Annabelle fished in the back pocket of her jeans and took out a slightly battered card holder. It only contained one card, which she handed over to the Nurse.

"Well, that checks out okay." The nurse smiled. Annabelle was glad she didn't linger too long on the embarrassing, baby-faced photograph of her plastered on the front. "Come along with me, I'll take you through into the supply room."

"Are you sure?" Annabelle trotted along behind the nurse, casting a backward glance to the unmanned counter. "What if someone comes?"

"Don't worry, there's a Chansey nurse on duty. She can handle things for a few moments. And if there's a real emergency, she'll come and get me."

The nurse led Annabelle into a walk-in storage room, filled to the brim with boxes upon boxes of supplies. Poking around on the middle shelves, she eventually pulled out a couple of towels which she loaded into a pile near to Annabelle. After a few more minutes of digging through boxes on the topmost shelf, she pulled out a couple of brightly coloured feeding pipette.

"I assume you have the formula you need?"

"I have formula suitable for most baby Pokemon, yeah. Standard issue stuff, nothing fancy, but suitable for most ages. I'm still not sure what exactly the egg is going to hatch into as we came across them by chance."

"Well, I'm sure you'll take great care of them when they _do _hatch."

"Thanks, Nurse. I really appreciate this." Annabelle knelt down to pick up the armful of towels. "I'll bring all this back as soon as the eggs hatch, I promise."

"Not a problem. I'll send a Chansey nurse up with a kettle and a tub later on, if that's alright?"

"That's perfect. Thanks for all your help!" Annabelle grinned, bowing her head in gratitude and quickly jogging back out into the lobby.

Pushing the bedroom door back open, Annabelle proudly showed off the collection of towels and feeding pipettes the nurse had given her. "Look! Look at all this!"

Paul's eyes honed in on the feeding pipette. "What… the _hell _is that?"

"It's a feeding pipette!"

"It looks like a baster… You know, that thing you use to baste meats. "

"Oh, you would say that." Annabelle let the pile of towels drop to the floor. "How's the egg doing anyway?"

"Nothing interesting's happened yet." Paul laid back on the bed.

"That's a relief," Annabelle perched gingerly at the edge of the bed. "Alright." She said, cracking her fingers. "You better get ready. We're in for a long night."

"Great…" Paul muttered.

As Annabelle predicted, several long hours passed. They sat in their room, carefully watching the egg for any signs of development. Yet aside from the odd tap every half an hour or so, very little happened to ensure Paul's prolonged interest.

Annabelle, on the other hand, sat cross legged on the bed, the second egg safely tucked up in her lap, intently staring at the hatching egg. Every time it moved or tapped, she barked at Paul for the time, then made a note in her book. And then when there was silence or no movement, she barked for the time again and wrote down "NO PROGRESS" next to it.

"Don't you think you're taking this a little too seriously?" Paul made the mistake of asking.

"Of course not! What's not serious about a new life coming into the world?! I'm monitoring the baby's movement just in case there's any problems! I'd like to see _you _do this competently!"

"Okay, okay, I'm just saying. No offence meant." Paul held up his hands in mock innocence. He glanced at the half-eaten sandwich he had brought her from the cafeteria two hours ago. The bread was curling up at the sides. "Hey. You should really eat. You've barely touched that sandwich and if you're gonna be up all night, you'll need something."

"I'm fine." Annabelle replied briskly, marking something else in her notes. "No time to eat when Baby is coming."

"Oh for the love of…" Paul sighed in exasperation. "Nothing is going to happen if you take five seconds to eat. Look, how about if I watch and you go and get yourself something?"

"And what if it hatches and I'm not here?" Annabelle looked aghast at the mere suggestion of it. "You don't know what you're doing, do you?"

"What's to know? Egg cracks open, baby plops out. Easy."

"It most certainly isn't! Wh-what if the baby gets stuck? O-or if he's born with a build-up of mucus in the throat and he can't breathe? That _happens, _you know! Why do you think I went and got all this crap?"

"Alright, fine…" Paul mentally sidestepped those scary possibilities. "Well, at least let me go and get something for you?" he softened his voice just slightly. "You look pale. You haven't eaten a proper meal since this morning. And how do you expect to give any decent care to this baby if you can't even take care of yo—"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Annabelle flapped her arms at Paul. "Look, look, look…! Look at the top of the egg!"

Even as she said that, a tiny piece of shell flaked off from the top of the egg. Instantly, Annabelle reached out for it, holding it delicately between her thumb and forefinger. From the top of the egg, a thick, transparent goo seeped out. Annabelle leant forward and pressed her finger into the goo.

"Annabelle, what the hell are you doing?"

"I know it looks weird," she said. "But it's kinda like how doctors and midwifes check amniotic fluid when waters break in labour. Basically just checking to see if it's healthy."

"And is it?"

"Seems to be. Generally if it's green, brown or blood stained, you're in trouble. This is nice and clear, you see? Not too thick either. So yeah, doesn't seem to be any abnormalities." She showed Paul the dab of goo on the end of her finger.

"Yeah, you don't need to show me." Paul waved her proffered finger away.

"Oh look," Annabelle breathed out in wonder as the egg began shaking slightly and more cracks started falling away in the shell. "I think it's happening, look!"

"Oh God, do I have to?" Paul groaned, watching the thick, ectoplasmic gloop slop out from the egg and flood the towel it was sitting on. "It's disgusting!"

Then, suddenly, the egg gave a mighty shake and the shell collapsed in on itself. Annabelle's hands dove straight into the pile of broken shell and viscous gunk. Her hands closed around something and she pulled it out gently, revealing a bright red, wriggling creature. From where he was sitting, all Paul saw was a bloodied, hairless _thing _that looked more like a prop from a horror movie than a cute, newborn baby.

"That's it, I'm out of here!" He cried, standing up and grabbing his jacket in one fell swoop. "I'll come back when it's… cleaner!"

Annabelle didn't even pay Paul the slightest bit of attention as he burst out the door, Ledyba's Pokeball in hand, too fuelled by panic and disgust to sit there any longer.

.-.-.

Paul paced the outside of the Pokemon Centre, taking in big lungfuls of air. Unable to get the image of the squirming red creature out of his mind, he glanced around, taking in his surroundings and trying to replace one image with another. The Pokemon Centre was poised on the precipice of the National Park – although he realised with something of a heavy heart, it was probably closed to the public now. There goes that idea.

It was getting late. He wasn't quite sure of the time, but guessed it must have been somewhere around nine, maybe even ten o'clock. The lingering, salmon pink sky was slowly being swallowed up by the black of night. A freckling of stars above his head and in the distance, the smudge of a streetlamp. The chilled air hurt his lungs.

There was no-one else around. Somewhere above his head, he heard laughter coming from one of the rooms on the upper floors. He bowed his head and tried to ignore it.

"Come on, Ledyba." He released the tiny Pokemon and scooped him up. He began to walk, to nowhere in particular, just wherever his feet happened to fall. "It's been a while, I know." He murmured to the sleepy bug. "Maybe we should work on this training of yours."

"Leeeee…" the Ledyba groaned in protest.

"Not tonight, huh? Too tired?"

"Le!"

"Yeah. I don't blame you." He had wandered close to the gates of the National Park and was grateful to stumble across a bench. Collapsing into it, he cast his gaze upwards at the flickering sky.

For the first time since he had left, he wondered how things were going in Cherrygrove City. How the people at his old job were coping without him. If the kids he used to play the Trading Card Game were missing him. Or, if they had even noticed he had gone at all. A heavy sigh escaped him and his breath misted into the darkness.

"Le…" Ledyba touched Paul's leg with its tiny hand. "Le? Le?"

"It's alright, buddy." Paul said thickly. "We should probably go back inside. Don't wanna leave Annabelle on her own too long with the newborn… whatever-it-is."

He dragged his feet the whole way back. Even the Pokemon Centre lobby was quiet, the only movement coming from the Nurse pottering around behind the front desk. Ledyba still hoisted under one arm, he slumped through the many hallways and staircases until he got to their shared room.

He knocked once on the door. "You decent?" he called through the wood.

"Wha? Of course! Get in here!"

He pushed open the door and bowed into the room, Ledyba squirming from his grip and bouncing straight onto his bed. Annabelle was sat, cross-legged on the bed, a bundle of _something _in her arms.

"What is…?"

"We've got twins!" Annabelle blurted out, holding her arms forward.

Paul leant closer. Bundled into her arms was what looked like a bulky, almond-coloured mass. Then, he made out two small noses, eight twitchy legs and two pairs of eyes, still partially closed.

"What the hell happened…?"

"I was so preoccupied with the first egg, I guess didn't even notice the second egg hatching!" Annabelle laughed nervously. "I should have known better and checked the second one, but I was so excited when the first one hatched that I just… I don't know, got careless… I guess…" her voice trailed off, tinged with shame.

"Don't worry about it." Paul moved Ledyba away from the centre of his bed so he could sit down. "Anyway, what the hell was _in _those eggs anyway?"

"What, you can't tell?" Annabelle teased.

"Well, they're wrapped up so close together!"

"Easy, Paul. Here, take a closer look."

She offered her arms full of Pokemon nearer to Paul. It took him a moment, but finally, he recognised the white underbelly, thick claws made for burrowing and the distinctive brick-like pattern on the rough hide.

Of course. It was obvious, if he thought about the few Pokemon even available where they found the egg.

"Sandshrew!"

* * *

**Author's Notes**

**Hi guys. Sorry for how long this update took. I've had a lot going on.**

**I'm sorry it's a bit shorter than it probably should be and I'm not all that confident with how this arc has gone, but hopefully I'll regain some quality and some motivation with the next few chapters. **

**Also, if anyone is a fan of Submit Your Own OC fics, be sure to check out The Neverending Meep's new fic "It's All in the Genes" which will be accepting submissions for between 3-5 original characters. The form should be released on the next chapter (which he's working on right now) so please give that a look, it would mean a lot to me and to him. **

**I'll see you on the next one, guys, thank you!**


	16. Mother Annabelle

**Chapter Sixteen  
Mother Annabelle**

A week passed in the steady comfort of routine.

The Sandshrew babies grew quickly under Annabelle's careful nurturing. Paul's private thoughts were that, at first, they were boring. They snuffled around in a makeshift bed Annabelle constructed from whatever blankets she conned from the duty Nurses and a few of her own woolly jumpers, only livening up when they were fed.

They opened their eyes after one day. Started squeaking on the second. After three days, and much to Annabelle's paranoid distress, they started crawling around on their own. Yet it took Annabelle four days to name them.

She claimed it was down to not being "certain on their gender" but Paul could have told her from the offset they had hatched one male and one female. The female had a shorter tail, shorter claws and slightly rounder eyes. Amateur stuff, he teased her.

Annabelle settled on Cleopatra for the female – quickly shortened to Cleo as the day wore on. The male started out in life with the uninventive name of Spike which Annabelle changed to Indiana after half a day's consideration.

"Mother Annabelle", as Paul christened her, reared her ugly head nearly the moment the twins were born. She was an intimidating matriarch, structuring every minute of every day for the benefit of the twins. She threw around buzzwords like "attachment forming" and "child-directed speech" and "developmental age", all of which meant less than nothing to Paul. Eventually, it became stifling and after a heated argument, he packed himself and Ledyba off to the National Park for a walk.

He was glad of the peace and quiet the National Park at night brought. Newborn babies were loud. And Annabelle's insistence on "putting them in a routine" meant eating at set times and going to bed at set times. "It's them that are the children, Annabelle, not me!" was the mantra that quite often went unheeded.

But of course, as he was rapidly learning, a bit of "peace and quiet" was never long to last. A few minutes into his walk, he and Ledyba were assaulted by a hoard of angry Spinarak. Paul's heart had sunk, his immediate instinct just to run away, but Ledyba had jumped out, taking the entire Spinarak hoard on by himself.

Paul was amazed. This from the Pokemon that probably couldn't even take out a Caterpie by itself. Now he had despatched five or six Spinarak one after the other. Sure, it wasn't like he had taken on a Tyranitar by himself, but in all honesty? It didn't matter. It was a victory. Optimistic seeing Ledyba's prowess in battle, Paul began spending as much time as he could with Ledyba in the Park.

The improvement was slow, but steady, and by the end of a week, Paul barely recognised the little bug by his side. After the Spinarak hoard, Paul had sought Weedle; an opponent that was both threatening and non-threatening enough to provide good experience. Ledyba had struggled at first, taking well over a day and an entire reserve of potions to finally get the better of one. And when one eventually did get taken down, the aftereffects of Weedle's Poison Point sent Paul scurrying back to the Pokemon Centre in search of an Antidote.

A few frustrating days later, it was like a switch had flipped. Ledyba suddenly seemed to fall into a comfort zone against the Caterpie and Weedle. Even though he only had one attack, it grew stronger and more confident with every encounter. And Paul's confidence grew with Ledyba's. And instead of hurriedly shepherding Ledyba away from more intimidating enemies like Paras and Venonat clinging to vines and trees overhead, he sent Ledyba forward to try his luck.

And amazingly, the little bug came through.

With every Pokemon defeated, the more Ledyba grew. Paul had been sitting down on a bench, lazily watching Ledyba circle a particularly aggressive Weedle out the corner of his eye, when a strange noise brought him out of his stupor. Looking up, he was greeted with the image of Ledyba proudly watching over a dazed Weedle running headlong into a tree over and over again.

"No way." Paul had said, immediately getting to his feet. "Did you just learn Supersonic?!"

"Le, Le! Le!" Ledyba had cheered, waving its arms in affirmation.

"Bitchin'!" was all Paul could say as the confused Weedle was despatched with another expert Headbutt.

Supersonic soon led the way to Comet Punch, a move that Paul had anticipated Ledyba learning ever since he had been saddled with it. He watched his Ledyba in an odd mixture of pride and disbelief as the tiny little Pokemon rained down blow after blow on the mindless bugs around them.

Every night, he eagerly reported Ledyba's progress to a bemused Annabelle who balanced feeding Cleo and Indiana with listening to his excited ramblings. It became a comfortable routine, a familiar and warm feeling, like slipping on a favourite jumper.

On the morning of the eighth day, Paul sprang out of bed early and grabbed Ledyba's Pokeball. Today was the day, he had decided. Today was the day Ledyba was finally going to master Reflect. He had been showing promising signs of developing it the past two nights and Paul just knew he was close to accomplishing it.

Grabbing some breakfast to eat on the road, Paul was half out the door when a voice called him back. Turning around, he saw Annabelle approaching, brandishing some sheets of paper and two Pokeballs. She promptly planted them in front of his face.

"What's this for?"

"Registering Cleo and Indiana." She stuffed the pages into his hand. "Here. Read it."

Paul wrinkled his nose, glancing briefly over the pages of the thick document. They were full of long words, jargon and technobabble with the occasional empty box. "Registering?"

"Yeah. It's a standard issue form for when Pokemon become old enough to be officially registered to go into Pokeballs. Breeders deal with them a lot. Seriously, I think I could fill out one of these in my sleep." She said with a giggle. "I've dealt with the more boring legal stuff, so you don't need to worry about ticking the wrong boxes or whatever. I just need you to read the declaration, sign it and date it, and I'll submit it onto the system. The nurse here is letting me use their computers to do it. Then, after that, we can _finally _get going."

Paul stared at Annabelle over the imposing document. "…what? We're leaving that soon?"

Annabelle misunderstood. "Well, I know what it looks like. Cleo and Indy _are _small, yes, but they're right about the age when they can be transferred into Pokeballs. So long as they're not in there constantly, they should be fine. You know, they did a study on that? Pokemon kept in Pokeballs for longer periods of time since birth were more likely to have behavioural problems later in life. I mean, it's kind of obvious, isn't it? I mean, keep anything cooped up all the time and there's bound to be repercussions."

"Annabelle, do you have a point?"

"I do!" she nodded. "Yes, they're still young and small. But we can register them and carry them for short bursts. Their immune systems are strong enough now, so as long as they stay warm and well-fed, everything will be fine! So we can head towards Goldenrod now!" she concluded with a cheery smile.

"…oh."

Annabelle hesitated. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"N-no." Paul surprised himself by the strength of his disappointment. "It was just… I was hoping to get enough training to get Ledyba learning Reflect properly. He's… almost there. It would have taken one more day at the most I reckon."

Deflated, he walked away from the Pokemon Centre doors and sat down heavily in one of the plush sofas in the middle of the lobby. His exhale blew the greasy fronds of his hair from his forehead.

Annabelle took a seat beside him. "Don't worry," she said lightly. "There's plenty of opportunities to train and battle on the way to Goldenrod. And even more when we get _to _Goldenrod." She was thumbing through the papers now, setting out the ones Paul needed to pay attention to

"I don't wanna battle people…" Paul muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" Annabelle murmured distractedly.

"Nothing, nothing." Paul sighed. "So, what am I doing?"

"You're just signing and dating this form. Standard procedure from when a Pokemon becomes from having no legal owner to being kept in a Pokeball as proof of ownership. Like I said, nothing to worry about."

"Okay…" Paul picked up the pen and a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute. Shouldn't I have signed one of these when I picked up Ledyba?"

A vivid blush darkened Annabelle's face. "Well… uh… I suppose so, yeah…"

"So… the fact I didn't sign one…? Won't I get in some sort of trouble?"

"Well… _technically _you didn't."

"Meaning?"

"I kinda forged a signature on the paperwork."

"Why the hell did you—?"

"I signed it way before you had the trainer license, okay?" Annabelle's face flushed even redder. "Because if I hadn't done that, we could have been delayed ages because I had no way to get the change of ownership registered in time… A-and we had to leave as soon as possible! I'm… I'm really sorry."

Much to Annabelle's surprise, Paul was smiling. "Wow." He chuckled. "That's pretty bold of you."

"You're… not mad?"

"Why would I be?" He said with a shrug. "My signature is pretty much a scrawl anyway. I'm pretty sure I never sign it the same way twice. So I don't care."

"Thank Arceus." Annabelle breathed out. "A-anyway. Putting that aside. Which Sandshrew do you want? Cleo or Indy?"

"I don't know." Paul shrugged. "Is there one in particular you want?"

"I love them both equally." Annabelle said tactfully. "Although, I have been monitoring them quite carefully. If I had to take a guess, Indy was displaying signs of… what I guess gamers know as an Impish nature."

As Annabelle predicted, Paul's face lit up.

"And I'd say Cleo had something like a Timid."

"I'll take Indiana then."

"I thought you might," Annabelle chuckled. "Well, here." She passed over several bits of paper. "These are Indiana's forms."

Paul signed and dated the forms and handed them back to Annabelle, who folded them away into her bag. "That's great." She smiled. "I'll patch this into the system with the nurse and get Indiana and Cleo into their Pokeballs. I'll meet you back in half an hour with all the stuff and we can move on?"

"Sure, I guess…"

Annabelle was already gone before Paul could even finish his sentence. By the time he dragged himself back up the stairs, wrestled his heavy luggage down the stairs and back into the lobby, an impatient Annabelle was bouncing around the front doors, waiting for him.

She pounced on him the second he approached. "Here, here, here!" she pushed a Pokeball into his hands. "You are now the proud owner of a Sandshrew! Now you actually have a _team_! Or at least the startings of one."

"Great," Paul pocketed the Pokeball with a wry smile. "Another thing to train right from the beginning."

"I suppose. It can be a little difficult to train Pokemon right from the beginning, I guess. But it _does _mean you can train them exactly the way you want them."

"Hm. I guess you're right."

"But don't you dare try and push Indiana before he's ready!" Annabelle scolded as the two of them left the Pokemon Centre, laden down with all their bags.

"I was teasing." Paul clarified.

Annabelle cast him a disapproving look, unconvinced. "Anyway. It'll take us… quite a while to reach Goldenrod. I hope you're prepared for this."

"As prepared as I was for any of the other routes you've dragged me on."

"Ha-ha." Annabelle said dryly. "Anyway. We can get a ferry sailing from Goldenrod to Cianwood once we get there. They're every day or two days, I think, so hopefully we'll make it in time. Then we'll have to figure out our case to present to the Breeder Association…" she was wringing her hands together, talking more to herself than Paul as the scenery melted into grassland around them.

Paul shut his eyes as she continued to talk blithely to no-one in particular. Then with one question, he came back to earth with a bump.

"Is there anything you wanna do in Goldenrod?"

"Huh?" He looked at Annabelle as if she had spontaneously grown another head.

"Well, it is a big city. There's lots to do. Training dojos, shopping centres, possibly one of those Appraisal houses. I might even stop by at one of the Breeding Centres they have there. So, do you wanna do anything?"

"I can't think of anything… Unless I visit my sister."

The words slipped out before he could verify them.

"Your sister?"

"Y-yeah." Paul said nervously, hoping that would be the end of it.

"Is this your big sister? The one you mentioned earlier?"

"Yeah. She's a doctor in a private health clinic in Goldenrod. She's also supposed to be getting married soon."

"Oh? Well, we can visit her if you want?"

"Maybe."

Paul's words were tinged with finality and Annabelle thought it better than to pursue it any further. "O…kay, then." She murmured. "Well, at least we're a long way off reaching Goldenrod so we can decide once we get there."

"Sure."

They walked for some time in silence. Annabelle hummed to herself while they walked, some vague sense of a tune that Paul didn't recognise. Paul on the other hand kept his eyes peeled, glancing around every tree and bush that they passed in search of any Bug Pokemon that would be a good opponent for his Ledyba. But the route was full of passing trainers and Paul wasn't entirely confident in challenging any of them.

They stopped for lunch at a secluded spot. The baby Sandshrew were still mostly being fed with milk with the occasional soft pellet to get them used to chewing and swallowing. Paul scarfed down his sandwiches, glaring at Dusty the Shroomish, whenever he got too close. Annabelle neglected her own food, focusing mainly on getting the babies fed.

"You really should eat." Paul said, long after he finished his own food and started to eye up Annabelle's abandoned meal.

"Indiana isn't feeding properly…" Annabelle protested, trying in vain to get the baby to latch onto the bottle. He was wriggling profusely, trying to escape Annabelle's grip while Cleo sat nicely.

"Give him the pellets, then. Maybe he doesn't want milk."

"I don't even think it's about feeding." Annabelle flailed desperately, trying to keep a hold of him. "I think he just wants to get out and explore."

"And you don't trust him to do it?"

"He's too small yet." Annabelle looked at him reproachfully.

"And mothering him horribly is going to fix that?"

"I'm not mothering, I'm just looking out for him!"

"Oh, for God's sake…" Paul muttered, just as Indiana finally wriggled out of Annabelle's grip and lurching forward, making a beeline for the closest exciting thing possible.

Paul had to admit, the baby Sandshrew was good on his feet, wobbling around with surprising confidence. Annabelle lunged for the baby but just missed him and the baby went scurrying away, squeaking in delight.

"Oh, let him be." Paul grumbled as the baby Sandshrew teetered around in-between a frowning Dusty and an indifferent Abigail. "He's not doing any harm."

He regretted his words when the baby Sandshrew lunged for Ledyba with his tiny, needle-like claws. The Ledyba let out a howl of pain at the unprovoked contact, jumped back and made a noise that sounded like an irate hiss. The baby Sandshrew squealed excitedly and hurtled forwards again.

Ledyba only just avoided Indiana's assault, but the aggravated and spitting of Ledyba only made Indiana more determined.

"Indiana, stop that." Paul warned as Indiana barrelled forwards again.

The Pokemon didn't listen, this time narrowly missing Ledyba by a few centimetres.

"Le! Le!" Ledyba cried, jumping backwards. He thrust his arms into the air, waved them back and forth and a bright blue rectangular barrier sprang up in front of him. The Sandshrew, completely oblivious, crashed headlong into it and fell backwards.

"Well…" Paul said in amusement. "Talk about killing two Pidgey with one stone."

"Oh for Arceus's sake…" Annabelle reached out and pulled the unconscious Indiana into her lap again. She checked him over quickly and visibly relaxed. "I think he's fine. He's just a bit dazed."

"I keep telling you, you're mothering them too much."

"I am not!"

A well timed cry from Cleopatra sent Annabelle lunging for the other baby. Scooping up the female Sandshrew, she cuddled both of them close, murmuring to them comfortingly.

"Yes. Not at all motherly." Paul remarked with a knowing smirk. "You just need to remember. They're going to grow up whether you like it or not."

"Uh-huh." Annabelle murmured, not really listening.

"You can raise Cleo how you want, but Indy's got an ideal nature. I want to raise him to be a battler." He chose not to add on "With an ideal nature he'll be great to present to Dest".

"All I'm saying is," Annabelle said patiently. "…don't be so quick to raise him. He's still a baby. Don't rob him of his childhood too soon."

Not knowing what could be said to that, he compensated by saying "Eat your sandwich. We should get going."

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hi everyone. So so sorry this took forever. I've had a lot on and struggled to find time to work on this. **

**I hope this doesn't disappoint. I have some fun stuff coming up after this, including a character arc for Annabelle, a couple of fun cameos that hardcore fans should spot, and FINALLY some team-enhancing and meeting Dest!**

**Thanks everyone for all your continued support. It really means a lot to me. **

**It's typical now that all the new Pokemon have been released cos now I wanna write them... somehow! **

**I'll see you all soon! **


	17. Golden Time

**Chapter Seventeen  
Golden Time**

"Wow. Goldenrod City. It's changed so much since the last time I was here."

"And when exactly _was _the last time you were here?" Paul eyed Annabelle with a quiet scepticism.

"I dunno. Beginning of the year maybe? I think I'd taken a trip up to pick up some supplies the breeders here didn't need when I was setting up."

It had taken the better part of a week to arrive in Goldenrod City, yet both Annabelle and Paul had arrived in its bustling hubbub in relatively good moods. Sticky, dirty and smelly they may have been, but the burgeoning view of Goldenrod City in the distance had instantly wiped clean their fatigue.

"A city can't change that much in a few months, can it?"

"Goldenrod… it's like a world of its own," Annabelle smiled as the two jogged across a road before the next car came hurtling down. "There's always something new coming up, something old being taken down or replaced. It's like this great big living… thing."

When Paul returned her a blank stare, she blushed a little and bowed her head down. "Doesn't matter," she said with an airy shrug. "I suppose you're wanting to head straight to Cianwood?"

"You're the one so desperate to get there, you tell me."

"W-well, it probably would be a good idea to get there sooner rather than later." Annabelle chuckled. "You've got to get to Blackthorn soon, yeah?"

"I have… a few weeks to spare," Paul chose his words carefully. "But your… sanction or whatever? Don't you only have a small window of time you can appeal it?"

"Well, I wouldn't know exactly. I've never been sanctioned before."

"So… you're basically just turning up there and hoping for the best?"

"No." Annabelle said coyly. "_We _are turning up there and hoping for the best."

Paul rolled his eyes.

"Anyway!" Annabelle said grandly. "I was asking because I wanted to know if we should stop at a Pokemon Centre first before heading for the ferry. You know… clean off a little?"

"Is there any point? What if we miss a ferry?"

"Fair point. Well, come on, let's go then."

"You do know where you're going, right?" Paul asked to Annabelle's retreating back, but his voice was lost to the roar of the traffic.

As the two threaded their way through the labyrinth of side streets, Paul allowed his mind to wander. He understood what Annabelle meant about Goldenrod being a law unto itself, although he reasoned he would never have admitted it. He had visited Goldenrod a handful of times in his life, once as a child dragged on an expensive holiday and a few more in his early adult years to visit his sister. All when his parents still held the power over his actions.

The thought of his sister made him cringe and he looked up at down the streets in apprehension, seeing her image in everything. The peppy barista in the coffee shop window. The nonchalant teen checking her phone. The businesswoman clip-clopping down the street in heels altogether too big for her. He bowed his head to continue walking.

Goldenrod was a strange place. That was the only logical conclusion he could ever draw. The smell of backfired cars and grease, mingled with the salty tang of sea air blowing in from somewhere he could not see yet – hidden behind skyscrapers and department stores. A place where everything lay in gridlocked patterns. Even the plants – installed along every street corner – while it was the coffee shops and fast food outlets that sprang up like weeds.

The ferry terminal lay a bit beyond the city limits. Annabelle seemed to know her way, pausing on occasion in a quieter street or intersection to glance around and get her bearings back. They spent more time in wait at road crossings, waiting for the "CROSS" sign to blink green and ferry them safely to the other side.

At first he thought they must have been travelling further and further away from the water's edge. His nostrils filled with the smell of petrol; he couldn't detect the scent of brine and he wondered whether Annabelle knew where she was going after all.

Then, they rounded a corner and after following a harsh uphill climb, he saw it. Like a smudge of paint on an easel, its bright blue azure almost seemed to hum on the horizon. He remembered the ocean from that one time they were on holiday. Sitting on the rooftop of an expensive hotel in the west side of the city, he had gazed over at the strip of blue that looked so small he felt he could have fit it in his fingers. Can't we go and swim in the ocean, he asked his mother. Of course not, she said. We have a pool. We don't need the ocean. And then she spoke of slimy seaweed and fish with teeth and salty pain at the bottom of your feet until Paul let the matter drop.

"It's huge, isn't it?" Annabelle wheezed, her chest juddering up and down with the effort of the uphill climb.

"Huh? What is?"

"The _ocean_, you dumbass!"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess it is."

The ferry terminal was small and modest, a handful of uniformed staff flitting between the docks and an old building nestled a little way from the water. There were no ships in to dock but the keen-eyed could make out a handful of tiny sailing boats flitted away in the distance. It reminded Annabelle of dancing Surskit she had seen skittering on the pond near her breeders.

All of a sudden, Annabelle dumped her bags down and studied a large, upstanding sign posted at the precipice of the dock. She ran her fingers down the smeared protective glass, muttering what sounded like days and times under her breath. Eventually she stood up, letting out a deep sigh.

"Well, we've literally just missed one."

"You are joking, aren't you?" Paul felt his entire body slump.

"Nope." Annabelle straightened her back. "One a few hours ago."

"Typical. So when's the next one?"

"There's the irony." Annabelle tapped a section of the timetable, highlighted in red. "Apparently there's staff shortages. We're likely going to be stuck here until Saturday."

"Saturday? You mean four days from now Saturday?"

"I don't know any other Saturday, Paul." Annabelle retorted. "But yeah... 9am on Saturday is the next ferry straight to Cianwood."

Paul let out a prolonged groan.

"Cheer up." Annabelle elbowed him in the belly. "It's not like we're short of things to do in Goldenrod. Come on. Let's head straight to the Pokemon Centre and get freshened up?"

.-.

Paul felt he could have stood under the waning water pressure of the Pokemon Centre showers for a month and still not have felt entirely clean. Still, after two rounds of shampoo and so much mud and dust sluiced from his body that it probably could block a drain and become sentient, he stepped out, knowing it was as good as he could realistically achieve.

Annabelle was bouncing around the room when he got back, dishing out plates of pellets to each of the Pokemon. Paul dropped his soaking wet towels to the floor and stepped over them to join Indiana and Ledyba on the bed, now covered in a healthy dose of crumbs.

"Feeling more human yet?" Annabelle teased. Her own dripping wet hair was loose around her shoulders and her bare face looked strangely stark.

"A little," he said. Noticing the Pokemon scarfing down their treats, he felt an envious rumble in the bottom of his stomach. "So, what are _we _doing for food when this lot is finished?"

"Uh… you know, I was just gonna eat here." Annabelle said quickly.

"What? In Goldenrod?" Paul scoffed. "For the person who couldn't stop harping on about all the things to do here, you don't wanna go out and sample it?"

"Goldenrod is… an expensive place." Annabelle said after a moment. "Not all of us are as well off as you are." She added with a forced laugh.

"I know that," Paul shuffled closer to the edge of the bed. "Surely you must have some money? Some sort of income?"

"My income comes from my Breeders. Which, if you'll remember, is closed for business." She was laughing again, like it meant nothing, but she wouldn't meet Paul's eye. "And it wasn't like I had a lot coming in from that anyway."

"No part time job? Savings? Parents?"

"I ran through most of my savings in the first few months. And as for my parents, after the disaster with my first Pokemon journey – you know, spending all of my Dad's money and then demanding to come home after a few months – they were pretty much adamant I was to make my own way after that." She paused, stopping to nudge a few discarded pellets back in Dusty's direction. "What about you?"

"What _about _me?"

"Come on. I've seen the way you flash the cash like it's nothing. You must be loaded."

"Not really."

"You worked, though?"

"Yeah, I _worked_. Probably not as much as you think, though."

"Then you must save a lot?"

Paul shrugged. "I didn't have a lot of expenses. Rent in my flat is cheap. I get groceries at a reduced price from the supermarket I worked in. And I don't do much outside of work."

When he looked over at Annabelle in expectation of a response, she looked strangely sad. "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing." Annabelle looked back up at him. "I just… well, isn't that quite a lonely life?"

"Isn't yours a lonely life too? All alone in that breeders day in and day out. I've never heard you talk about friends or any other family."

"W-well… being a breeder means you don't get a lot of _time _for friends. A-and I'm not lonely. As long as I have Pokemon around me, I'm not lonely."

"I don't believe that. Everyone needs some sort of _human _contact now and again. Heck, even _I _get that."

"I'm not lonely." Annabelle reiterated firmly. Then, she softened and her head dropped down to her chest. "Well… at least not now. Not as much!"

There was silence between them for a few moments. Then a burning question that Paul could contain no longer forced its way out.

"What about after Cianwood?"

"Huh? What about it?"

"Come on, Annabelle. Don't be dumb. After we get you to Cianwood and we sort out the breeding thing, you'll be going home, won't you?"

"Well… yeah," she shrugged. "I need to get the Little Stars back up and running as soon as possible. I can't afford to miss out on any more business."

Paul hesitated. Perhaps he was simply reading too much into this. Or perhaps Annabelle just didn't quite understand what he was getting at. He floundered under her quizzical gaze, searching for the right words to use.

"Well… once we leave Cianwood, you'll be going home, right?"

"Yeah."

"And I… well… I won't be. I'll be heading on to Blackthorn."

"I know."

Her blunt response surprised him and he felt himself withdraw slightly. He felt foolish. Of course Annabelle wouldn't care that they would be going their separate ways. Travelling together was an arrangement of convenience. A means to an end. Embarrassment darkened his cheeks and he turned his head, hoping Annabelle wouldn't see.

"I mean, you'll come visit when you get back, right?"

Her voice was light and airy, her head propped to one side like a curious Growlithe, eyes wide and innocent. Paul's embarrassment flushed even darker. "S-sure. I mean, if you want." He replied gruffly.

Annabelle was smiling now. "Course. You'll have to show me that flawless Riolu when you get him. Let's face it, it might be the closest a lowly breeders' like mine ever gets to seeing something of such a high calibre." She chuckled. "And Ledyba and Indy. I'd like to see how they get on after some more training and travelling."

"Mm." he grunted. "Yeah. I'll bring 'em then."

"I'd like that." Her smile was too bright and too kind. Paul felt that if he looked at it any longer he would probably go blind.

"A-anyway. We kinda... really got off the subject."

"Yep. We did." Annabelle said with a firm nod. "What… _was _the subject?"

"Food." Paul said with a timely grumble of his stomach. "I wanted to go out for food."

"Oh yeah…"

"Seriously. Let's go out."

"But I can't afford—"

"My treat. And _no _arguments." He added, just as Annabelle opened her mouth.

He expected protests. An argument. Some sort of promise of "I'll pay you back!" or even a barrage of insults. But instead, her grin spread even wider, she jumped to her feet and grabbed her bag. "Alright then!"

-.-

"So, of all the places in the world you could have picked to eat, you chose a generic Big Bite?"

"Hey, it's cheap and they don't skimp on the portions." Paul said definitively, cramming a handful of fries into his mouth.

"That's for sure." Annabelle said, nervously eyeing the tray in front of her and the formidable pile of meat and grease that constituted "food".

The menu had been alien to her – everything had funny names and descriptions were added in like an afterthought in tiny fine print. The Mt. Ember burger – a monstrosity with four patties, spicy cheese and a generous slathering of chilli beef was a popular choice. The Tyrantum burger was another – a behemoth sporting three patties, six slices of prime bacon, countless slices of cheese and packed to breaking point with crispy onions. Annabelle had looked up and down the menu and other peoples' choices and felt sick, eventually choosing the smallest thing she could identify.

Yet her simple cheeseburger was still around the size of Paul's fist, dripping with cheese and crammed full of pickles and tomatoes. She wasn't quite sure how to tackle it, looked around for anything resembling a knife and fork, but there was nothing. Paul was depositing his eponymous Big Bite Burger – easily twice the size of hers – straight to his mouth with only his hands and an optimistic hope. Annabelle gingerly pulled out the tomatoes and pickles with her fingers like she was playing Jenga, trying to make it a little more manageable.

"Ohh… so good." Paul slurped, tomato sauce dripping down his chin.

"Enjoying that?"

"You have no idea. I wish we had a Big Bite in Cherrygrove. I can't get enough of these whenever I get away from there."

"I suppose that's the price of peace and quiet," Annabelle said coyly, but it was lost on Paul who was too busy devouring his food.

After eating, the two of them once again took to the streets of Goldenrod. It was a warm day with a refreshing breeze and they had an eventual goal of heading to the nearest Pokemart to replenish some supplies. Paul ambled down the road, enjoying for what felt like the first time in forever he was able to walk at his own pace.

Annabelle kept her mind engaged, looking down every street at the endless array of shops, eateries and galleries. There was so much to see in big cities, especially Goldenrod, and she had to stop herself from wandering off down a different street when something caught her eye. She talked aloud, pointing out cute things and practical things and pointless things she would never need to an only occasionally responsive Paul.

It was after a particularly enthusiastic squealing over a Torchic tea cosy that she realised Paul had disappeared from her side. She eventually spotted him halfway down the street, llingering in front of something. He was staring up at the slanted roof of a building unassumingly tucked away between a takeaway food hut and a dishevelled discount goods store.

"Whatcha staring at?" she called, coming to join him.

"This building here. Little Kickers Dojo."

"Clever name," Annabelle said with a chuckle, squinting to read the chalk writing on the board by the door.

_"__Come and join us for INTENSE training sessions!_

_Strength! Defence! Speed!_

_Learn from our experts!_

_Are you brave enough to take on the Master?!_

_Sessions: Monday to Friday_

_9am to 6pm_

_All Welcome"_

"I like the little drawing." Annabelle pointed out a crudely sketched monster under the writing. "It's a Hitmonlee. Right?"

"If the Hitmonlee had a nasty accident, maybe."

"But what's so special about a dojo?" Annabelle asked. "So special you had to stop in the middle of the street for it?"

"I've never seen one before." He admitted. "Dojos weren't a big thing in the games. I was just… curious… as to… as to their purpose, I get. Obviously… you know a bit more than me about… this real life shit so…"

He was turning steadily redder the longer he spoke.

"Well, dojos kinda… they filled this gap in the market for trainers, cos there weren't many place for trainers to go _specifically _to train. I mean, yeah, you could battle random people on the streets or challenge Gyms but there was nowhere to kinda… learn from other trainers and refine skills. That's what Dojos do, essentially. But you generally only get them in big cities. Oh! And sometimes the people in charge put on tournaments and really fun competitions like scavenger hunts against other dojos."

"Wow. Tour guide Annabelle."

Annabelle tipped an imaginary hat. "Thank you!"

"So, anyone can walk in and train?"

"So far as I know, yeah. There's loads of space and equipment, plus people to battle and masters to learn from. Why? Do you wanna go in?"

"Well… I was thinking it might be best. I've got a Ledyba who is… well, a Ledyba. And Indiana doesn't know much at all. I need to do _something _to train them. I can only do so much with trees and rocks."

"Very true. Well, if you wanna stop by, I don't mind."

It was all the invitation Paul needed. The doors had swung open and he had disappeared inside before Annabelle could protest. Letting out a fond sigh, she shook her head and stretched out her aching limbs.

Around her, the city moved on. People wove in and around her like she wasn't even there. She had loved cities for that reason as long as she could remember. She felt safe in cities. Protected. Safe. Anonymous in the crowds of people. People rushed by and didn't see her. Didn't even register her beyond another blank face in a sea of many.

She had to push aside the sentimentality. They would only be here a few days, then it would be purely business from then on. The thought of the impending hearing at Cianwood was like a heavy weight across her shoulders, pressing her all the way into the ground so that every step was an effort. What could she say? What could she do? How could she convince them to lift the sanction? And what would happen to Paul after she was gone?

"Stop worrying, Annabelle…" She chastised herself. "Everything will be fine. It has to be."

Reassured for the moment, she pushed the door open and slowly followed Paul inside.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Wow. I'm sorry. That's all I can say. I've actually had this chapter completed for about two weeks but never had the chance to put it up.**

**Work got in the way. As did Pokemon Go. And applying for university. And a week or so of complete nihilism didn't help whatsoever either. **

**I'll try really hard to keep releasing chapters. I have a fun few ideas planned for the next couple of chapters and after that we'll be delving back into the proper storyline. **

**Thanks for keeping up, guys, if anyone out there is still reading this! **

**See you next time. **


	18. Little Kickers' Little Surprise

**Chapter Seventeen  
Little Kickers' Little Surprise**

She wanted to laugh. The moment she stepped into the dojo, she just wanted to laugh. Paul was a sight to behold; one she never would have expected from him. He stood in the middle of the polished floor, looking entirely out of place, surrounded by screaming children barely half his size, Indiana the Sandshrew balancing precariously on his shoulder. He wore a look of uncharacteristic concentration as one of the tinier children explained something to him.

Couldn't have been an easy task, however, with ten children that Annabelle could see and at least that many Pokemon following along. She counted Mankey, Machop, Makuhita. One tiny little girl with red pigtails was being chased by a boisterous Toxicroak. Her gaze rested on Paul and the young boy with the Mankey. After a few moments conversation, Paul detached the wriggling Sandshrew from his shoulder and set him down by the Mankey. Annabelle took a cautious step forward, heart thumping, horrible visions of the vulnerable baby being set upon. But the Mankey took a step backward and after a quiet word from its trainer, coiled its fists up and slowly moved its body through the paces of a punch. The baby Sandshrew watched in awe, then balled up its own tiny paws and tried to copy the Mankey's lead.

Annabelle let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Collapsing into a chair by the front entrance, she allowed her body to relax. She kept her gaze still trained on Paul and Indiana. The baby Sandshrew followed the Mankey's every step and punch, his tiny face screwed up in concentration. Half convinced still that Paul would soon lose his temper or lash out at the child, she didn't quite trust herself to look away. She felt suddenly large and intrusive, the determination littering Paul's face almost an unwelcoming sight. Despite it all, he and the child seemed to be getting along. What she could pick out seemed light and airy, full of encouragement for both parties.

Annabelle noticed the only other adult in the room before Paul did. A tall, bearded man with dark twinkling eyes wearing robes too big for him came gliding from an adjoining room separated by a screen door. Silently, he moved between children and Pokemon, offering nothing more than a nod or approving gesture, but causing a hush and stillness wherever he went.

The child and Mankey tutoring Paul both froze when the older man approached them but he went unnoticed by Paul, who kept on shouting encouragement and miming the moves. As the young boy gestured to Paul to look behind him, Annabelle slid forward in an attempt to hear what they were saying. Paul's face had reddened considerably and it was made only worse when he glanced over in Annabelle's direction.

By the time Annabelle had slipped off her chair, the old man had already left their side and was making his way towards a small raised platform at the front of the room. Annabelle elbowed Paul in the stomach, hissing "Who was that? What did he say?" but a flushed Paul only muttered at her and turned away.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the old man had a hushed, coarse sort of voice. It reminded Annabelle bizarrely of sandpaper but she found she couldn't help but listen to it. "Welcome to Little Kickers. I am very grateful to see pupils both old and new," he added, with a short glance in Paul's direction. "…attending here today."

"Sensei! Sensei!" The girl with the Toxicroak piped up from the front of the room. "Never mind all that other stuff, okay? Tell us about the competition!"

When the old man only looked at her quizzically, a look of horror passed over her face. "Oh no! S-sensei, it _is _today, isn't it?"

The old man laughed, a short, raspy chuckle heavily embedded with a hacking cough. "Forgive me, lass. I don't meant to tease you. You're right. Today _is _competition day."

"Competition day?" Annabelle muttered under her breath. "What the hell is that?"

Sensei's deep twinkling eyes found Annabelle in the crowd of Pokemon and children and she flinched as she felt their hot gaze. Had he heard her? Was that even possible from such a distance? She offered a quick smile then dropped her head in apologetic shame.

"For any of you that do not know, or have forgotten, or simply do not know, today marks the eighteenth annual Inter-Dojo Scavenger Hunt."

"Inter-what?" Annabelle glanced at Paul in the hope he was as clueless as she was. But he was listening intently, his eyes never wavering from the Sensei atop the podium.

"I do hope all of you in attendance today will be participating." The old man smiled. "Anyone who wishes to take part, please make your way to the Wooper Park by the Pokemon Centre to sign up. I will be heading there shortly myself."

Amidst the burst of excited chatter, Annabelle glanced up at Paul. "Scavenger Hunt?" she questioned. "Is that what you were talking about with the old guy?"

"Yeah. I signed us up."

"You… what?"

"Listen, though." He grabbed her by the arm, his eyes suddenly bright. "They're offering a rare Pokemon as a prize for coming first!"

"A rare… Pokemon?"

"The old guy didn't say much but he said they offer up a really rare, high quality Fighting type Pokemon egg as a prize."

Annabelle instantly perked up. "Egg?"

"Yep! And come on, we could benefit from having a fighting type in our team. We have basically _no _coverage across our teams, much less any sort of decent power potential."

"Aren't you getting a Riolu?" Annabelle raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, but that's not for weeks yet. Come _on, _Annabelle." Paul was practically pulling her arm off in his haste to get her out the door.

"Alright, alright, alright!" She cried, allowing him to drag her off, completely and utterly bemused by the sudden enthusiasm he was displaying.

The Wooper Park was apparently ten minutes' walk away. After professing that neither he nor Annabelle knew where it was, Paul was invited to follow Ryan, the boy with the Mankey and his friends up there. This suited Paul fine. Kids walked slowly and these ones weren't obnoxious.

Dashed with fountains and hedged by lush, leafy green plant life, the Wooper Park seemed like it would be a pretty decent place to take a break. A vendor was selling chunks of crispy fried fish wrapped up in newspaper and the smell made Paul's mouth water, despite having gobbled down a huge meal earlier in the day. There was a small congregation of people by the largest fountain in the park, some already decked out in full martial arts gear, and several official looking adults mingling between them.

"Are we, like, the oldest people here?" Annabelle muttered, realising that everyone else, who wasn't an official, was easily a foot shorter than her.

Paul was mentally counting heads. Twelve kids, not counting he and Annabelle or any of the officials. "Is this… all there is?"

"What were you expecting?"

"I… don't know. I just thought, you know, for a dojo, you'd have loads of people. Especially if it's some big competition."

"These are just the competitors for our dojo," A voice behind Annabelle made her shriek in surprise. The old man, the sensei from Little Kickers had somehow caught up to them. "The other dojos have many more students than we do. I assure you, you will have many rivals."

He had said this with a noticeable twinge of sadness to his voice, but it was gone as soon as it came as he shuffled to the front of the group. He raised his voice, instantly commanding the attention of everyone in the area immediately. "Listen everyone. The dojo staff will be handing out the signup sheet and your instructions for the hunt in a few moments."

After a bit of squabbling between the younger children, the sign-up sheet made it to Paul and Annabelle. Paul scrawled both of their names across the street and the official, perhaps sensibly, handed the instructions to Annabelle.

Her eyes scanned downwards, slowly widening. "Wow…"

"Gimme that," Paul grabbed the sheet from Annabelle's hands.

**_Rules_**

_You will undertake this hunt in pairs._

_Each pair will be given an Objective List, a map of Goldenrod and a disposable camera_

_You will have 3 hours to complete as many objectives as you can. _

_Objectives are split into 3 levels of difficulty. _

_Easy = 1 Point. Medium = 3 Points. Hard = 5 Points. _

_Be careful! Some objectives require you to solve riddles and puzzles to get to your goal!_

_Each Objective requires evidence of completion. _

_Whether it is photographic or a souvenir will be listed on the Objective List_

_The pair with the highest overall total will win Sensei's Big Prize_

**_1 Point Objectives_**

_Obtain a Pidgey feather_

_Take a selfie with a __**wild**__ pokemon in the picture!_

_Something strange is for sale on the third floor of the department store! Take a picture of it! _

_Can you climb to the top of Goldenrod's famous arch? Show us with a picture!_

_Which of Goldenrod's citizens cries the most? __**WITH PERMISSION**__, get a picture of her! _

_Three Pokeballs and a Super Potion give you just enough change from $2000 to buy this item. Show us what it is! _

_Who made the Wailmer wail? __**WITH PERMISSION, **__take a picture of her!_

_Who's mahoggin' all the mahogany? Get a photo for proof! _

_Find one of the following Pokemon in Goldenrod City, and take a picture for proof; Snubbull, Drowzee, Yanma, Growlithe, or Magnemite._

**_3 Point Objectives_**

_Catch the baby Meowth. Take a CLEAR selfie for proof._

_"__I have a face that doesn't smile and hands that don't hold. What am I?" – Take_ a _CLEAR __selfie in front of me._

_"__Which building in Goldenrod has the most stories?" Take a CLEAR selfie in front of me. _

_"__Where is the most eggciting building in Goldenrod?" Take a CLEAR picture of me. _

_"__What has a dish but no fruit, and waves but no water?" - Take a CLEAR selfie in front of me. _

**_5 Point Objectives _**

_"__What is still, and can still kick your ass?" - Battle me to win a Souvenir. _

_"__What ends where it begins?" - Solve me with a photo for proof._

_"__I have rivers without water. Forests without trees. Towns without houses. What am I?" - Take a CLEAR photograph (Hint! I'm closer than you think)_

**_BONUS - 10 Point Objective!_**

_"__Where are all the yellow cakes?" - Think very carefully, and take a photo for proof! I'm not easy! Anyone correctly answering me wins a special prize! _

"Fu…dge…" Paul censored herself just in time as he finished reading. "Are they serious? Riddles? Riddles?! They want us to solve riddles?" he brandished the sheet at Annabelle as if she hadn't even seen it. "I thought we just had to _find _stuff!"

"Don't be like that, Paul. I'm sure we can manage!" Annabelle said brightly.

"We better." Paul grumbled. "I want that prize."

"You don't even know what it is yet." Annabelle sighed. "Typical man… So goal orientated…"

Paul was about to fire back at Annabelle when Sensei loudly cleared his throat. "Now then, everyone. Read the instructions carefully. You'll be heading out soon to start. Just for now, is there any questions?"

"About a million," Paul muttered under his breath.

"Now, remember, you will be competing against four other dojos in the Goldenrod area. Pioneers Dojo, Empire Dojo, Free Spirits Dojo and Pancham's Palace Dojo. I don't need to tell you that our Little Kickers remains the smallest of all taking part and has been for many years. We have never won the annual Inter Dojo Scavenger Hunt. I want to encourage everyone bearing our name today to do their best.

A smattering of cheering and applause rose from the Little Kickers' students.

"Your competitors from the other Dojos will each be starting in the North, South and East districts of Goldenrod. Yes, David, that means you're in the West District. Now, remember," his voice took on a more serious edge. "Your competitors know who you are. And while this dojo always prides itself on sportsmanship and integrity, there are some who do not uphold the same standards. Watch out for tricks."

"Tricks?" Paul murmured, hoping the old man would elaborate, but he didn't.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you that there will be no conferring with other pairs, or indeed, other dojos. Please remember to all do your best."

The kids around Paul and Annabelle looked weirdly tense and determined, hands clenched, poised on the tips of their toes, clutching their maps and objectives. While Annabelle felt out of place, Paul found their energy infectious, and felt a bubble of excitement burst somewhere in his stomach.

Sensei smiled down at them all. "You may begin."

* * *

**Author's Notes**

**Again. I'm so sorry. I'm a terrible person. **

**This chapter was really really difficult to get out for some reason. Life has been really busy but I actually have some good news to share. **

**1\. I have two weeks off starting Sunday so I hope to get some works out. **

**2\. I have been accepted back to university and this time next year (or thereabouts) will be a fully qualified high school English teacher!**

**Anyway, the quality and length of this chapter are suffering a little bit so I do apologise. I'm going to try my best to get some more, better quality, chapters out for you all!**

**Thanks for always reading, guys. It means so much. **


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